


A Cradle Song

by Argothia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bat Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argothia/pseuds/Argothia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's been a bit of an incident... and we're not really sure what it was."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Sorta a slow starter, we got two chapters before we get to the actual de-aging... I like me some set up, shh.

Jason is not used to babysitting his younger 'brothers' on patrol. In all honesty he never expected to have to. Between Dick and Bruce they seemed to be able to keep an eye on the brats adequately. He should have anticipated the inevitability of Bruce being away on League business and Dick being a worrywart.

If the eldest brother hadn't been such a mother hen, then Jason would never have gotten stuck watching the replacement. He still can't understand why Dick had paired him with this brat over the other one. Something about preventing the destruction of humanity. It doesn't matter. There aren't many people Jason can't stand more then those who always seem to know everything. The brat reminds him way too much of Bruce. Admittedly, a more manipulative Bruce, which Jason can respect. The resemblance is there though, in the cool, calculating way the brat observes him like some kind of hunter.

Jason had argued against being sent on this mission, the kid was fifteen, he was old enough to look out for himself. The replacement hadn't made any overt protests but he seemed against it too. The Demon Brat had given them a smug look like he was winning by getting to go on patrol with Nightwing. In the end Dick had won out, with his disgusting puppy-dog eyes that got him everything he wanted.

So here Jason sits, on a crate, a good six feet above the brat smoking a cigarette, while they stake out a warehouse from the opposite warehouse’s roof. Dick will kill him if he lets the kid inhale tobacco smoke, so it's better to not be particularly close. It's been hours and he's getting creeped out by the brat's stare by now. “What?”

The kid looks away immediately. “I was just wondering how you can smoke like that and not hack up a lung.”

Jason scowls. “Don't go judging my bad habits, Replacement, or I'll start finding yours.”

“I'm not.” The brat looks up, genuinely apologetic. “It's sincere, scientific curiosity, I swear.”

Staring at the kid for a long moment allows Jason to put together a few things. He's not lying, he really just wants to know, and there's actually some kind of admiration for Jason hiding somewhere behind a mask of severity. Jason sighs. “Don't know. Probably something to do with the damn Pit. Remember not to be like the bad Robin, brat, don't smoke it's not good for you… Unless you've got accelerated healing…”

“Heh, well, don't worry about that.” Tim turns his eyes back down towards the warehouse. “My only addiction is coffee.”

Jason chuckles. “Yeah, you always did strike me as the coffee sort. You seem a bit young to be drinking that shit though.”

“Eh, I've been drinking it since I was ten and it hasn't killed me yet so I guess I'm good to go.” The kid shrugs.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Ten? Who let's a fucking ten year old near coffee?”

“A very exhausted housekeeper.” Tim smiles as if remembering an amusing incident. “She taught me how to make it for myself and I just never told my parents. They weren't around enough to notice anyhow. By the time Dad found out, well, there wasn't much he could do about it.”

That sounded like a familiar story. Jason puts out his cigarette and puts his helmet back on. Turning on the thermal vision to do a quick check of the area. “Well, I sure hope you don't need any coffee right now, because our guys have just arrived.”

Tim leans on the rock wall separating him from a nasty drop and lowers his voice as he responds. “I see them.”

Jason freezes as the boy looks back at him as if for orders. He doesn't like that, he doesn't really care for being in charge of anything. “Well, looks like Black Mask's crew alright, think we should just jump down and beat the shit out 'em now?”

No matter how Jason had attempted to phrase that this brat would have caught on to the fact that he was awkward about command. The knowledge only prompts a slight smirk from the replacement. “Wouldn't it be better to see who they're waiting for? Two groups with… well, two vigilantes but yeah.”

“You lost track of that metaphor, huh?” Jason snorts contemptuously to hide the fact that he's actually laughing.

Tim seems somewhat distracted. “Hm, well, after fighting the villains in this city long enough you kind of get a bad impression of the phrase 'two birds with one stone'.”

“Ugh, yeah, that I can relate to.” Jason looks down at the brat. “What are you doing?”

Sharp, blue eyes look up at him with a mischievous glint. “I had an idea this was where this deal would go down, so I staked it out a couple of nights ago. Set up some bugs, stuff like that. So I may be able to set up a bit of a trap for our future friends, if all goes well.”

“Oo, traps, tell me more.” Jason feels a bit childish resting his chin on his knee, but it's comfortable so he doesn't really care. “I assume you're listening in on their convo?”

“I am. They're just chatting right now, but they are discussing a buyer for something.” Tim crosses his arms on the walltop and rests his chin on them. “Rain's started playing havoc with the signal.”

“It's not--” A rain drop strikes the back of Jason's neck causing him to sit up straight. “Oh.”

Tim smiles like the little brat he is and continues. “Seems like the buyer's late… I don't like the sound of that… Hood, let's go.”

“Hm?” Jason can't react before the teenager is actually perched on the wall. “What's happening?”

Tim looks over at him. “The buyers are Falcone's men, Black Mask set up a trap for them!”

“Oh no, how horrible.” Jason's sarcasm earns him a glare. “I'm just saying, you really want 'two gangs with one stone' let 'em kill each other.”

The kid looks conflicted, but only for a moment. “I can't do that.”

Jason groans as the brat shoots a line to the warehouse and leaps off into space. “Hey! Come back here! Dick will kill me if-- Fucking hell!”

He jumps after the kid.

***

Tim lands among the gang members with precision, taking out one with his landing. The rest turn on him, guns at the ready, but he just smiles. “Hiya, boys, fancy meeting you here.”

He hears the men start to move and leaps up, flipping back to land his boot in another gangster's face. There's only eight of them left, if Jason hurries then they should have this taken care of before things go south. Thankfully, Jason never disappoints when it comes to getting into a fight. One of the gangsters falls clutching at his leg and screaming. Tim sweeps the legs out from under another before Jason can shoot the man in the head. “No killing, Hood!”

“Fine!” Jason swings his gun to aim for the next guy's gut.

Tim ducks under a gun aimed at his head before the man can actually pull the trigger. A kick to the gut and there's only four left. A gunshot sounds behind him, from one of Jason's guns, Tim can always tell the difference. He slips out of the way of another gangster trying to hit him with the butt of his rifle slamming his elbow down into the back of the man's neck. Two.

He spots Jason elbowing a man in the face and they're down to just one. However, Tim seems to have lost track of the man.

“Whew! Now that was a good fight.” Jason sounds exhilarated. Great, just what Tim needs. He's starting to wonder who was supposed to watch who on this mission.

Tim scans the area with his eyes. “Stay alert, one of them's missing.”

A slight movement in near the alley catches Tim's attention and he sees the hem of a black overcoat disappear. He knows Jason saw it too.

It's not often that Tim moves without thinking, usually he has the opposite problem, he over thinks his next move. However, sometimes, just sometimes, the knowledge that if he doesn't move something really bad will happen strikes him. It's just a feeling. A vague instinct, but it's what sends him tearing after the fleeing man without first thinking it through.

“Wha--? No, wait, you little shithead!” Jason yells at him.

Tim ignores him. He knows that gut instincts are sometimes wrong, but this isn't the same. This is intuition. He knows that if he lets time pass or let's Jason go after the man then something bad will happen. Of course he can't guarantee that chasing after a man in a dark alley without back up is going to turn out alright. All he knows is that anything else will turn out badly.

Keeping the fabric in sight Tim keeps up the chase, his agility allowing him to keep up with and even gain on his longer legged target. Longlegs manages to stay ahead though, until they come out onto a street. Tim hardly notices the metal cane until it hits him in the side of the head and he finds himself sprawled out on the cement. Through fading vision he sees the culprit raise the cane again, then he hears the gunshot, it sounds far away, but he knows it's Jason's gun. The cane wielder falls sideways as Tim's world goes dark. So much for keeping Jason from killing anybody.

*** 

Tim is down when Jason rounds the corner, over the teenager stands a very tall man in a black overcoat and fedora, who holds a bloodied cane high above his head. Jason doesn't think, he just shoots. The freak goes down easy enough and Jason is at Tim's side in the next instant, checking the boy's injuries. He doesn't trust the pulse, he's been fooled by that once already. He really doesn't have to check it anyhow. The brat is breathing, just unconscious.

“Damn, Nightwing's gonna kill me.” Jason grumbles aloud and slowly picks up the brat. He hates noticing that Tim's incredibly light, hates realizing that it's because the kid doesn't eat, and especially hates that it _concerns_ him.

He looks around for the stiff he just shot and unnervingly finds it gone. “Shit.”

That's gonna come back to bite them somehow, but right now all that matters is getting the injured brat to Leslie. Jason climbs up a disused fire escape, to where he's mostly out of sight and connects with Dick on the comm. “Wing, Red's down, you free for a pick up?”

“Sit tight, I'm on my way!” Dick's never been good at hiding his emotions. It's far too easy to tell that he's worried.

“Not much else, I can do, Goldie.” Jason takes a deep breath. He really, seriously hates that he's worried too, but he can't deny that he is.

It takes five minutes for the Batmobile to pull up to the curb and Nightwing to jump out. “Hood, where-?”

“Here.” Jason hoists his burden into his arms again and makes his way down to the street carefully. “Figured you didn't want him lying in the street.”

Dick reaches out to take Tim from him and Jason's immediate reaction is to prevent that. After a glare from his 'brother' however he hands the boy over.

Tim stirs finally his eyes opening part way. “Mmr, Nigh'wing?”

“Easy, Red, you've been injured.” Dick sets Tim down in the Batmobile. “I'm going to take you to Leslie's clinic. Can you stay awake til then?”

Tim squints at Dick like his eyes won't focus, which is probably the case. “'K. 's probably a concussion. Ugh.”

The brat closes his eyes again. “Hood?”

“Right here.” Jason responds.

Tim smiles, just a bit, his brains must really be scrambled. “S'rry. Should've lis'ened to you.”

“Go get better, baby bird.” Jason turns to Nightwing. “Get going. I got stuff I gotta look into here.”

Strangely, Tim looks upset by the idea of leaving Jason behind, opening his eyes so he can reach out to snag the sleeve of Jason's jacket. With reluctant gentleness, Jason dislodges his grip then cups Tim's face in his hands for a minute. “I'll come check on you later. I promise.”

Tim nods and Dick somersaults over both of them and into the driver's seat. Jason steps away from the car and watches it speed off. He's drenched to the bone from the rain, but he can't go just yet. He's positive he shot Tim's attacker in the head. So there should be a body lying on the pavement, but there isn't. Which means that it's up to him to do the work and find out where it went.

There's no way to tell where exactly the corpse would have landed, the blood's been washed away by the rain, but he makes an educated guess and starts investigating. He can hear the sound of sirens from the area where he and Tim had done in Black Mask's men. Took them long enough and they had to be absolutely inconvenient. No time to do a full blown search he gives it a once over and finds only one thing. Something that should have been washed away by the rain long before now. “Is that a… what the hell are they called… Something Long-legs?”

He picks the dead arachnid up by one of it's spindly legs and grimaces. “Fucking creepy.”


	2. Successful

“Nearly getting Tim killed and shooting somebody in the face are not my idea of a successful mission.” Bruce is growling. That's probably what woke Tim up. He never could sleep through Bruce's angry growls. Earthquakes? Sure. Tornadoes? No Problem. Angry Batman? Never.

Surprisingly, it's Jason's voice that responds. “Hey, I can't actually guarantee that I shot the fucker in the face. He did get up and walk away. In my further defense, the brat didn't die and I told him not to go running off alone… twice!”

Tim opens his eyes to the pale ceiling of the manor. He vaguely remembered Leslie saying something about resting and him needing to be monitored. Beyond that everything was a haze of sleep and hushed voices.

“Sometimes you have to try a bit harder with Timmy, Little Wing.” Dick's voice, Dick's nicknames. “He gets something in his head and just runs with it.”

Jason snaps back with irritation and sarcasm. “Then you should have told me I have to imitate Bruce to make him sit and stay before you sent me out on a mission with him, Goldie. Oh, wait, of course you couldn't you were too fucking busy playing nice with the baby.”

“I am not a baby, Todd.” Damian's growl is almost as deep as his father's. Surprising for a preteen. “And I do not see the point in your sudden favoritism towards Drake.”

“Shut the hell up and mind your own damn business.” Jason doesn't need to lower his voice to sound intimidating. He just needs to throw out more than one swearword in a sentence. No swearwords means he's worried, more than one means he's angry. Angry Jason is rarely safe for anyone involved.

Tim starts to sit up, hoping that his presence can somehow distract them from their arguing, but a gentle hand catches his shoulder. “Welcome back, Master Timothy.”  
Looking up into the old, worried face, Tim reluctantly sinks back onto the bed. “Alfred? How long was I out?”

“A few hours of sleep per Doctor's orders, your injury was thankfully, quite mild.” The old butler checks the bandages on Tim's head and smiles reassuringly. “Despite his unsavory methods, I suppose this time it was a good thing that Master Jason was there to save your life.”

Tim starts to move again. “That's why I have to--”

Alfred pushes him down again and speaks calmly. “I will inform them that you are now awake, that should be sufficient.”

Good old Alfred, he always seems to follow Tim's train of thought perfectly. The old Butler steps out of the room and calls down to the group below. “Forgive me for interrupting your bickering, gentlemen, but I assume that you would wish to know that Master Timothy is awake.”

There's a clatter of footsteps racing up the stairs. All of them behind the steady beat of what Tim recognizes as his adoptive father's own. Indeed, Bruce is the one who enters first.

“I thought you were away on League business?” Tim asks, a little upset at the idea that he might have interrupted important work.

Bruce sits on the edge of the bed. “I was. Now I'm not. How're you feeling?”

“Okay.” Tim answers. “But kinda sorry.”

The middle aged man tilts his head to one side and frowns. “Why?”

“A lot of reasons.” Tim swallows nervously. “Mostly because I rushed ahead without thinking, I should have listened to Jason, but… I had a kinda ominous feeling.”

Bruce's frown deepens. “Ominous?”

“I…” Tim sighs, he's not sure how to explain it. Thankfully, due to the fact that the entire family is currently gathered around the door, he won't have to try more than once. “I felt like if we let that guy get away or if I let Jason chase him, something bad would happen… I guess something did anyway, but…”

Bruce taps one finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Any idea what brought on that feeling?”

“Intuition?” Tim offers. “Something the thugs said about what they were supposed to be selling. I can't remember it now.”

“Can you remember anything else?” Bruce asks quietly.

Tim closes his eyes and sighs. “Not particularly, sorry.”

Bruce takes Tim's hand and squeezes it before standing up. “Nevermind, that's enough for now. We'll talk more when you feel better.”

“It's just a mild--”

“Rest, Tim.” Bruce puts down any argument.

Tim scowls at him through half closed eyes but relents. “Okay, but can I at least see my brothers before I go back to sleep?”

The head of the Wayne household can't really say no to that request and Tim knows it. Bruce nods and steps out into the hallway, giving a firm but quiet order. “One at a time.”

Dick has seniority and less of a tough facade to maintain, so he gets in first. “Oh, Timmy, I'm so sorry, I should have--”

“It was my own fault, Dick, relax.” Tim reaches out and squeezes his brother's hand. “And thanks for having Jason watch my back.”

The affectionate acrobat just whines a bit and sits down on the edge of the bed. “He shot that guy though…”

“Inevitable.” Tim shrugs and yawns. “He also shot three of the gangsters, to my knowledge, without fatality. Regardless of where he shot the guy who attacked me, he also didn't die. Everybody wins and nobody dies.”

Dick sighs. “Okay, you're way to lenient on him, but okay.”

It's always easiest to drag Dick out of a slump. Tim knows him well enough to know what will work. Deflect blame away from him, use enough logic, and some form of affectionate touching. Usually a hug, but at times like these a squeeze of the hand or even a gentle pat on the shoulder will do. It takes forever for him to leave though since he's so worried.

Damian just pokes his head in and narrows his eyes at Tim. “This is an unacceptable turn of events, Drake. Someone who claims association with the Wayne name should never allow themselves to be so easily defeated. Imagine how your incompetence would have reflected on Father if you had di--”

Jason's voice growls from outside. "Think long an hard before you finish that sentence, brat."

Silence for a moment then Damian rolls his eyes and grumbles something under his breath. After that he opens and closes his mouth a few times before murmuring, barely loud enough to be heard. "I am supposed to say, 'get well soon'..."

With that he disappears back out into the hallway. Leaving Tim confused as to whether Damian was showing genuine concern or just adhering to what he's heard is the social norm. Whatever the case Tim probably won't ever be getting an answer.

At first it seems like Jason won't enter the room at all, but eventually he does slip in between the door and it's frame. He stands there awkwardly as he looks down at Tim. “Hey.”

Tim doesn't beat around the bush. “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. You were right, I should have waited.”

Jason gives a noncommittal grunt in response before speaking. “Who the hell knows what would have happened if we'd stayed put. Don't sweat it.”

“Hm.” Tim looks away, he's not certain he wants to actually say the next words, but it's probably best to get it out of the way. “Th--”

“Don't thank me.” Jason interrupts, prompting Tim to turn a confused stare on him. “We'll just say we're even and call it good. I don't want or need your thanks.”

Tim closes his eyes. “Fine. I won't thank you. I'll just call you a jackass and leave at that, shall I?”

“Sounds about right.” The door squeaks and Tim knows Jason is leaving.

The boy half opens an eye to watch him go and murmurs. “You're a jackass, Jason, but I'm glad you're my brother.”

***

Jason closes the door behind him and fights the urge to smile. He shouldn't be this happy to hear the replacement call him his brother. He sighs and looks down the hall only to find Dick staring at him with a wide grin on his face.

“Is our little brother adorable or is he adorable?” The acrobat cocks his head to one side and Jason has the distinct urge to punch him. “I mean come on.”

A dirty look from Alfred prevents Jason from even raising his fist, so instead he crosses his arms and grumbles. “I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“So you're telling me you don't think it's absolutely precious that he just called you his brother?” Dick looks incredulous.

Jason's not about to give in to that thought yet. “If precious meant 'annoying' then yeah.”

“Uh-huh? And the calling him 'baby bird'.” Dick just pushed the right button.

Grabbing the eldest Wayne son by the shirt collar Jason snarls. “You say one fucking word about that to another living soul and they will be dredging the sewers for your corpse, got it?”

Dick raises his hands in surrender. “Okay okay, geez. Seriously, Jaybird? What about the getting mad at Little D then?”

“That was because he was about to say something fucking stupid.” Jason snorts and lets go of the shirt.

With that Jason walks around the acrobat, ignoring the quiet tease that Dick sends after him. “Sure it was.”

Nodding to Alfred as he walked by Jason comments. “Good to see you're the same as always, Alfie, I'll drop by for breakfast sometime, okay?”

“I shall make sure to set an extra place for you, Master Jason.” Alfred bows his head slightly, a small smile crossing his face.

Jason looked at the banister. He hadn't been in the manor proper for a while, the temptation to slide down the thing was great, but his image was already suffering. Better not to give Dick something else to tease him about. So he walks, reluctantly. Half way down he stops and glares at Bruce who's standing at the foot of the stairs. He might be on better terms with his 'brothers' but he still doesn't want to be close to his former 'father' at all.

Bruce seems to share the sentiment and backs off a bit. As Jason passes by though, Bruce does speak. “I appreciate your concern for Tim.”

“Don't get use to it.” Jason grumbles as he walks towards the doorway.

***

Damian is absolutely destroying a punching bag and Dick has to admit that he's impressed. Also terrified, but mostly impressed. Dick himself is reclining at what most would consider an awkward angle in the chair in front of the computer consoles. The one that's usually reserved for Bruce, but Dick's not particularly scared of his father figure any longer, so he doesn't feel nervous about sitting in the chair. No, right now his main concern is getting Damian to calm down. “Okay, Little D, what's the problem?”

“There is no problem, Grayson.” The child turns a vicious glare on him. It doesn't work. Dick grew up on glares way more intimidating than that.

“Yeah, tell that to that punching bag.” Dick laughs. “Come on, if you can't talk to your big brother who can you talk to, huh?”

Damian stops hitting the poor, abused bag of sand and flexes his hands. “Drake is complacent.”

“He has a concussion.” Dick responds. “He's not allowed to be… not complacent? No getting mad or getting into a fight or rising to a taunt for another week at least.”

The youngest brother snorts. “That has never stopped him in the past.”

“Point, however--” Dick sits upright in the chair finally. “--He's probably just thinking. So leave him be. Okay, Little D?”

Damian sighs. “Fine. Then I will admit, I have some concern for him, though only in the sense that I fear he will be a liability in future.”

Of course. “Don't worry about it, Dami, Timmy won't let us down. You can't tell me that you don't at least have some respect for him after all this time.”

“I do not.” Damian narrows his eyes, dangerously. “… I do not hate him, but he is… annoying.”

Dick shrugs. “Don't be too hard on him, he's just used to being the youngest… and also the only one who actually got to call himself a 'Wayne' for a while.”

“And this causes him to act like a child?” Damian hit the punching bag. “And Todd to treat him accordingly?”

So that's what this is actually about. “Timmy's actually pretty mature, Dami, you just bring out the worst in him. As for Jason… well, you might say that Timmy was his first little brother. That spot is always kinda special to you… I should know.”

Dick swallows the lump in his throat and turns away from Damian. There are hard memories associated with the love he feels for his own first little brother. The painful feeling of loss, the harsh hatred and sorrow of betrayal. He wasn't sure when he had cried harder. When Jason had died or when he'd come back. Things were better between them now, but it would never be like when Jason was a kid again.

“Tt.” Damian's irritated sound. The one he makes when he can't quite understand something or simply doesn't like it. Mercifully he changes the subject however. “Very well, then this person whom Todd shot. How is it possible that he got up and walked away?”

Dick spins around in the chair a few times as he responds. “Could be a metahuman? But not necessarily, I mean the Joker definitely isn't and yet he keeps evading death somehow.”

“Could it have been Clayface?” Damian offers.

Pointing at his little brother in acceptance of this idea, Dick responds. “Yes, he very well could have been. Lord only knows a bullet to the skull wouldn't stop Clayface.”

“Unlikely.” Bruce descends the steps into the Cave. “Clayface would not have retreated nor reacted much to getting shot.”

Dick relents to the superior logic. “Point.”

“Get up.” Bruce orders. Dick doesn't argue but obeys with a flair only he can achieve, gracefully jumping up and cartwheeling away ending his exhibition with a perfect back flip.

“Yeaaaah, I still got it!” Dick tries to get a high five out of Damian. Instead he earns a disgusted look, so ends up pouting. “Well, I thought it was cool.”

Damian looks up towards the ceiling and gives a resigned sigh. “Yes, your demonstration of your acrobatic abilities was… very cool.”

“Aw, I knew I could count on you, Dami.” Dick hugs his little brother who only reciprocates by patting him on the back.

Bruce ignores them entirely or appears to at least, he's far more interested in his computer. “Listen, both of you, I came back to check on Tim, but I can't stay long. Whatever comes from this incident is something you'll have to handle yourselves. Understood?”

Dick gives him a concerned look. “Of course, but do you really think something bad is going to happen?”

Bruce turns to them. “I'm saying I want you to keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Got it.” Dick stands up straight and spreads his hands in acceptance. “I'll make sure nothing bad happens, I promise.”

“I trust you will.” Bruce stands up and leaves his eldest and youngest sons standing together.

Damian punches the bag again and finally breaks it. Sand spills out onto the floor and Damian looks at it with distaste. Dick pats his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick is like really fun and awesome to write... just for the record.


	3. Protect Him, It, Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... Surprise!

Pouting is really the only nice way Dick can find to express his distaste for this situation. “You really shouldn't, Timmy.”

“Dick, it's been three weeks, I haven't had a single dizzy spell or moment of confusion in three weeks. If I sit still for one more second, I'm gonna go crazy.” Tim responds as he adjusts the collar of his uniform. “You ought to know the feeling. I'm fine. I promise to treat my body like it's made of glass, but I swear on Alfred's best tea set, if you don't let me out there I will make your life a living hell.”

Helplessly, Dick looks to his other two brothers for help. “Well? Help me out here. Say something!”

Jason obliges. “Hey, remember that one time you almost broke your back and Leslie said no acrobatics for a month? How'd that work out for ya, Dickie?”

“You are the most unhelpful piece of shit ever.” Dick glares at Jason wanting desperately to sock him right in the jaw.

A grin spreads over the troublemaker's face. “You know me so well.”

“Well, what about you?” Dick turns to Damian.

The tiny powerhouse pauses for a moment then shrugs. “I do not see the problem.”

“You're all hopeless!” Dick throws his hands up in defeat. He knows he's being dramatic, he can't help it. Groaning he comes up with the only solution that might possibly save his sanity. “Okay, Tim, I'll let you out on patrol, but this time you're with me.”

“What?!” Damian exclaims, infuriated. “You… you are not going to make me stay behind! Are you, Grayson?”

Slowly, Dick shakes his head. “No, Little D.”

“Then I am to be allowed to patrol alone?” He asks, hopefully, then sours at Dick's uneasy expression. “Or do you wish me to accompany both you and Drake?”

“That last one sounds like the best idea.” Dick sighs, tiredly. Looking after his little brothers is so much work.

Jason pushes away from the Batmobile he's been leaning against and brushes himself off. “Great, looks like I'm not needed here. Later, fu--”

“Jay.” Dick draws his brother's nick name out into a long whine, knowing the tactic will work. When it comes right down to it, Jason's a push over.

Various emotions cross the younger brother's face as he stands like he's been frozen. Then he grumbles. “Aw hell.”

Dick explains his logic, quickly before Jason has a chance to really think it over. “You really expect me to look out for both these little menaces alone? Besides, it's a great excuse for family bonding? Hanging out? Like brothers? Come on!”

“Sure and you're totally not just trying to keep an eye on mean old Jason so he doesn't go shooting some poor, innocent murderer in the head.” Jason crosses his arms and tilts his head in an arrogant manner. "Yeah, I really believe that, Goldie.”

There's no denying that he's right, but it runs a little deeper than he thinks. Dick looks down at the smooth rock floor and speaks quietly. “I just want to make sure that you stay… with us, Jaybird.”

“…Oh, fuck it, why not.” Jason's shoulder's slump, slightly, and he runs a hand through his now almost auburn hair.

Dick lets out a long sigh of relief. “Okay, then let's get moving.”

***

“Wait a fucking second. That's him! That's the fucking corpse!” Todd exclaims without regard for the eardrums on the other side of the comm link. Damian is not impressed. It is bad enough that they ran into this back alley deal as they were returning to the cave, making Grayson and Drake even less pleased about Damian's enthusiasm than normal, now he has to deal with Todd attempting to cause him to go deaf.

Before he can voice his displeasure, Grayson questions. “What corpse?”

Despite not being the one who was asked, Drake responds. “The guy who gave me the concussion.”

Grayson crouches as close to the edge as possible, studying the group of miscreants below. “I thought that was one of Black Mask's cronies? What's he doing with Falcone's crew?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Todd again. “Let's just knock 'em off and see if a shot to the face will stick this time for Long-legs!”

“For once I am in agreement with Hood.” Damian grumbles.

Drake scoffs. “Just this once?”

“There is no point in mulling over the answers here. They are clearly not trading in anything legal.” Damian snarls. “When I capture this 'Long-legs' I am certain he will tell us all we need to know.”

With a tired sigh, Grayson looks up towards Drake. “Red Robin, you went up against this guy before. Anything we should know?”

“If he runs don't chase him.” Drake responds with an air of humor. “But he will run.”

Grayson nods. “Got it, then let's go get 'em!”

“Finally!” Todd leaps from the roof top followed closely by Drake.

Not one to be beaten to the quite literal punch, Damian jumps as well. Soaring down to land among the panicked mobsters. He's irritated to find himself in near perfect sync with Drake for half a moment. Then Grayson enters the fray and, alongside him, Damian feels comfortable. He is in his element accepting a helping hand from Nightwing and standing back to back with him.

Taking down one of the gang members, Damian looks around for the villain called 'Long-legs' and spots him quickly. The dark clothed coward appears to be about to run for cover. Damian narrows his eyes and sprints. Long-legs hasn't run yet so it should be perfectly fine to go after him.

The villain notices Damian coming, stops his retreat, and waits. That can not be good.

***

He feels the sharp pain of something crashing into his gut, the suffocation of being trapped, the warmth of his brothers' bodies beside him. Tied to something. A chair? Bright lights and a garbled voice. A strange smell, some kind of gas. He's hacking now, half conscious. Where are his brothers? Something shatters. His bonds are cut. The smell of cigarettes and gunpowder. Clinging tightly to a familiar figure. Protect them. Has to get them out of this place. A piece of jagged glass cuts him. Stumbling upwards. Still clinging to the ones he needs to protect. Climbing, then running. Find somewhere. Anywhere will do.

Dick awakes with a gasp and knows something is wrong the minute he opens his eyes. In the first place, he has no idea where he is. It looks like some kind of warehouse. He's surrounded by large crates, tucked away in a back corner. Almost as if he were hiding, but from what? He can't remember. He can't remember anything but vague snatches after stumbling upon Falcone's men the night before or what he thinks was the night before. That brings up a more pressing problem. First priority finding his brothers.

Sitting up carefully, somewhat alarmed by just how much his body aches, he looks around. It's in that moment that he comes to a startling realization. To his left is a very familiar, redheaded preteen curled protectively around a dark haired boy of no more than nine. He turns to his right and finds a tiny toddler curled up against his side.  
The Nightwing costume's collar slips down over one of his shoulders and he groans aloud. This cannot be happening.

It does solve the mystery of why everything looked somewhat bigger than it should have.

Cautiously he reaches over and shakes the redhead gently, whispering in attempt to avoid drawing attention to them. “Jay? Jaybird, wake up.”

Jason stirs and lifts his head slightly. “Hrm, Goldie? Holy hell, what's wrong with my voice?”

“Yeah, I think we have a problem.” Dick responds, grimly, as he turns to start rolling up the sleeves and pant legs of his Nightwing costume. “Damn, I really hope these crates are full of kid's clothes.”

Sitting upright Jason flaps the now far too long sleeves of his shirt uselessly. “This sucks.”

“I don't suppose you have any idea what happened?” Dick finally manages to get most of his costume to a place where it won't trip him up. “Because I can't remember anything after meeting Falcone's goons.”

“Apart from you dragging our asses in here last night and passing out? Nah, I don't remember a thing.” Jason looks down at Tim, finally. “Damn, is that--?

“Wake him up.” Dick gets to his feet and makes his way over to one of the crates. “We have to get back to the cave and figure out what happened and how to reverse it.”

“Sure.” Jason shakes Tim, roughly. “Oi, replacement, wake up… okay, so apparently that's not working.”

“He sleeps like a rock. Try harder.” Hooking his hands over the top of a crate Dick pulls himself up to peer out at the rest of the warehouse. “So, looks like we're in luck! This is actually a clothing warehouse.”

“Dammit, Goldie, now we have to thank your half conscious self for his forward thinking. Do you know how fucking annoying that is?” Jason grumbles, then Dick hears a loud smack and a quiet yelp. “Wake up, brat.”

A barely audible whimper follows. Then a long moment of silence. “Jason?”

“Don't even think about laughing.” Jason growls. “Not even a damn smirk, got it?”

Dick looks back at the pair and drops down from his vantage point. There's a bright red spot on Tim's cheek and he seems more baffled than amused. “Don't threaten him, Jay. Now stay here and look after Dami, I'm gonna go see if I can find us some stuff to wear.”

“…Goldie, are you gonna steal clothes?” A mischievous grin is spreading across Jason's face. Dick hates that expression.

With a sigh, he looks over at Damian, who's now awake and clutching his Robin uniform in tiny hands. “For the sake of my sanity, we're gonna refer to it as 'creative borrowing'… I'll pay them back later. I just hope there aren't any guards around.”

“They would have heard us by now if they were.” Jason stretches his arms over his head. “Go about your illicit deed, we'll wait here.”

Dick slips away from his brothers and creeps out into the empty warehouse. It looks pretty much deserted and probably has been for a while. There's a few broken windows and everything is covered in a layer of dust. That makes Dick feel a little better, if it's been abandoned than he's not really stealing. Just salvaging. He checks a crate that's been smashed open long ago. The clothes inside are moth-eaten and moldy, they wouldn't be much use. It's probably a better idea to try one of the still sealed crates. Dick casts about for something to use as leverage or, in lieu of that, a tool for smashing.

Soon enough he finds a rusty crowbar and manages to wedge it between the top and side of one of the smaller crates. Then he throws his entire weight against it. The wooden lid lifts a bit, but it's not enough. He tries climbing on top of the crate and jumping up and down on the crowbar, prepared for the inevitable fall he'll take if he's successful. Unfortunately, the result is essentially the same. He needs more weight. “Little Wing.”

Jason's head and one shoulder appears around the corner of the crates his brothers are still hiding behind. “What's it?”

“The place is abandoned.” Dick assures him. “Can you come over here and give me a hand?”

The boy grimaces. “Can't the replacement do it?”

“He doesn't weigh enough.” Dick responds then adds venomously. “And stop calling him 'the replacement'.”

Jason shrugs and makes his way around the crate, with a death grip on his oversized pants though he's seen fit to discard his shirt and jacket. Dick has all he can do to not burst out laughing at the comical sight. Then Jason grumbles, “When we get back I'm gonna invest in a pair of fucking suspenders.”

Unbidden the image of Jason in suspenders leaps to Dick's mind and he can't contain his laughter anymore. Thankfully he can cover it up by faking a coughing fit. “The dust is… really… bad.”

Jason obviously isn't fooled, judging from the sharp glare he sends Dick's way. “Just get to work, bastard.”

He grabs the crowbar with one hand and braces himself against the crate, practically hanging upside down. Dick follows suit. The wooden frame can't hold up and snaps in half. The brothers tumble to the ground, but Dick's back on his feet in a second. Lightly, he hops up on the edge of the new opening and finds it filled with sealed, cardboard boxes. Each conveniently labeled. Dick grabs a box and tosses it to the floor before jumping down after it. Opening it looks like it will be a problem until Jason hands him a pocket knife. He slits the tape holding the box closed without asking questions.

“Jackpot!” Dick tosses a pair of pants to Jason. “Here go put these on, I've got more work to do!”

Jason gives no proper response, just wanders off out of sight. Dick gets back to work. In short order he has collected an outfit for Tim and even changed into his own new clothes. Now to find one for Damian. He's pulling the box of toddler clothes out of the crate when Jason returns. “Nice shirt, dumbass.”

“Hm, well, there wasn't a particularly wide selection.” Dick jumps down from the crate and watches Jason snatch up a red shirt from the pile. “That looks nice.”

The younger brother grunts and shakes the shirt off before putting it on. “These aren't all that old, huh?”

“Yeah, probably somebody's idea of hands off charity.” Dick opens the box and finally returns the pocketknife to Jason as he groans. “How the hell are we going to get Dami into any of these?”

Jason's grinning. Dick can't actually see his face, but he just knows that his little brother is taking immense pleasure in the idea of Damian dressed in any of the cutesy outfits in the box. “Make the… brat dress him, I mean, the little demon already hates him.”

“No… Even if Dami's only a toddler now, I wouldn't put it passed him to kill Tim without much trouble.” Dick runs a hand through his thick hair and picks out the plainest outfit he can find. “Okay, let's go make sure they haven't killed each other.”

Jason picks up Tim's outfit, which Dick had left folded atop the boxes and the pair head back to where the younger boys are waiting. Tim and Damian aren't fighting. They aren't even looking at each other, in fact they seem to be willing to look at anything but each other. Dick can only hope this means a temporary truce has been reached.

Jason tosses Tim's new clothes at their recipient. “There you go. Not as as nice as you're used to, rich boy, but I guess you'll have to fucking deal.”

Tim slips the shirt over his head without argument as Dick turns to Damian. The eldest brother swallows his nerves as the toddler glares daggers at the tiny matching outfit. “'m no' weawin' vat, Dwayson!”

At the sound of Damian's voice, Jason bursts out laughing. “Dammit, I wish I had a camera. That is priceless.”

“'s no' funny!” Damian squeaks in irritation.

Dick softly bats the back of Jason's head. “Don't laugh, Jay, I didn't laugh at you and your oversized pants.”

Jason snorts. “Sure you just had a 'coughing fit'.”

“No, that was because I imagined you in suspenders, so it's completely different.” Dick tries not to chuckle at the resurfacing memory. “Now, Dami, come on, this was the plainest thing I could find. It's this or nothing.”

Damian rolls his eyes but submits to being dressed in the Superman shirt and shorts. “Vis is humiliadin'.”

“Bear with it, Little D.” Dick sighs and turns his attention to Tim. “What're you looking for, Timmy?”

The young boy is fully dressed and rummaging around in his uniform for something. “Cellphone. Communicator?”

“Yeah.” Jason leans back against a nearby crate. “I don't think you're gonna find anything, b…rat. Whatever the hell happened, somebody was pretty thorough about taking all our stuff. Including our masks if you haven't noticed. Only missed my switchblade.”

“And we're not gonna ask why.” Dick states prompting a smirk from Jason.

Tim stops searching and sits down on the floor near Jason's feet with a heavy sigh. “This sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” Jason ruffles the boy's hair. “Least I still got my smokes.”

Tim's face scrunches up. “They took our wallets but left your cigarettes?”

Jason sits down beside Tim and winks at the boy. “You can take my money, but touch my fucking cigs and you're a dead man. It's a universal law, baby bird.”

A slight smile plays across Tim's face, the first one Dick's seen since they woke up in this state. That's good, they're going to be just fine. Dick stands up from his crouch and stretches. “Okay, I'm gonna go find a phone and call the manor. If we're lucky Alfred will be there to come pick us up.”

Jason looks up at him. “Not smart, Goldie, I mean, where even--?”

“I know, Jay.” Dick smiles at his brother. “I have an idea of where we are and I know, but you have to look after these two and somebody has to get help. So wait here.”

The redhead looks indecisive then sighs. “If you aren't back in two fucking hours I'm out of here. With or without the brats.”

“Okay.” Dick accepts that that's as much as he's going to get from his brother and walks away. “Keep them safe.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Worry more about your own damn self.” Jason waves him off.

Dick knows his brother is right, but it's not like they can hope that Bruce will make a lucky guess. They can't wait around to be rescued and, as the oldest, Dick's always felt it was his job to get them all home safely. Especially during times like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there'll be mindless fluff in later chapters. Cross my heart! I just ... like a bit of suspense sometimes and this gives me a great excuse for some cute and cool scenes!  
> Also forgive my fractured sentence paragraph... I felt like being a bit artistic. Not sure if it works but it was definitely fun.  
> /Edit/ Also also! Um, Damian, I did my best writing him but he was a bit difficult! It was fun to try and write from his perspective, in like the way that a really difficult puzzle is fun.


	4. Sounds

Alfred learned long ago that worrying about the Wayne family was more likely to send him to an early grave than it was to do anybody any good. However, he is not ashamed to admit that when dawn had come and passed without any word from the young masters he was a bit concerned.

Not someone given to panic, Alfred had assumed that something quite significant was keeping them occupied. A cursory check of the news, though, showed that the day had been surprisingly quiet as far as days went in Gotham.

Still he remained calm, perhaps it was simply something trivial. Then around noon time he decided it was time to take definitive action. First he sought out the signals from the tracking devices in their masks, fearing that any attempt at contact might compromise them if they were attempting to hide. The signals were gathered together in a small, historical building within the East End. After waiting for the signals to move for several minutes, Alfred decided it was time to find out just how long they had been in that position. So he contacts Miss Barbara. “Terribly sorry to disturb you, Miss Oracle, but have you heard anything from Nightwing's party since last night?”

Her brow furrows slightly, and she chews absently on one fingernail as she speaks. “No, and I'm assuming you haven't either. Great. Hm, the computer's telling me their signals haven't moved in roughly eight hours. Their masks at the very least are in an abandoned library, but considering they haven't budged a bit in hours, I can only assume they're not with their masks.”

That can not be good. Alfred's about to ask another question when the phone rings. He excuses himself and answers it. “Wayne Manor.”

“Alfred! Thank goodness!” The voice is familiar, but seems much younger.

Alfred feels more confused than he has in a long while. “Master Richard? My word--”

“No time for your word now, Alfred.” It is most certainly Master Richard, though he sounds nearly a decade younger. “There's been a bit of an incident… and we're not really sure what it was. Regardless, can you come pick us up?”

The elderly butler blinks slowly as he comprehends the situation. “Which car would you like me to bring?”

“The oldest, cheapest one we've got that seats at least four.” Master Richard whines, quietly. “We're in--”

There's a loud crash and Master Richard shouts. “Oh shi--”

Then the line goes dead. Alfred makes a vain attempt to call for the boy, for boy he must be, but gets no response. Now he is worried. He hangs up the phone and looks up at Miss Barbara's concerned face on the computer screen. “I am afraid, Miss Oracle, I am going to have to let you go, though I am certain we will have need of your services again shortly. Right now, there's another call I must make.”

“Understood, Agent A.” Miss Barbara folds her hands before her face and whispers her next words like a prayer. “Please tell him to bring them home safe.”

The elderly butler nods and switches off the call. In a moment he makes another and a familiar cowled face appears on the screen. “What is it?”

“It appears that the young sirs have become entangled in something a bit beyond them.” Alfred hopes it truly is only a bit beyond them. “Are you in the middle of something important?”

Master Bruce tenses, ignoring the butler's question and posing one of his own. “Where are they?”

“I'm afraid I do not know.” Alfred can be nothing but honest right now.

Bruce's expression becomes harder. “Oracle should be able to track them.”

“Their signals have not moved in eight hours.” Alfred shakes his head. “And Master Richard just called me from a payphone.”

“I'll be there in an hour.” Bruce ends the call.

Alfred takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. When that does not work he sits down in the chair near the console and allows himself to worry.

***

Jason taps a foot on the floor in boredom. It's been nearly an hour since Dick left and the entire place has been almost deathly quiet since then. He ought to know.

Throwing himself back against the nearest crate he pulls a cigarette out of the pack only to realize that the action is pointless. “Dammit, they took my lighter. Seriously gotta start remembering to include that in the list of shit I fight to the death over.”

Twirling the cylindrical agent of slow death around in his fingers he turns to the brats. The toddler is pouting, likely over the loss of his multitude of weapons. Not like he'd be able to use them in his current state anyhow, but that doesn't stop him scowling. Jason can sort of understand. He's not overly thrilled over the loss of his guns either.

The replacement is curled up in the corner formed by the crates meeting the wall, his tiny legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them as he stares off into space. Jason assumes that he's thinking. Though whenever he's seen the brat think before it's always been accompanied by pacing and murmuring out loud to himself.

Usually Jason wouldn't mind the silence, but around his brothers he's become so used to being interrogated or simply listening to them quip that this feels very awkward.

“So…” He breaks the silence. “Warehouse… suggests somewhere by the docks… or the river… anybody wanna take bets on whether Goldie will make it back at all? Oi, Replacement, what're the odds?”

The boy's eyes turn towards him, there's a look of worry on his face, but he doesn't say anything.

“You lose your voice or some shit?” Jason narrows his eyes at the boy.

With a shake of his head the brat finally has the decency to respond. “I'm fine.”

“Okay.” Shrugging Jason lets his gaze wander about the small space. “Doesn't explain a damn thing, but okay.”

Tim makes a quiet, frustrated noise. “It's… hard for me to talk… like this.”

“…Like…” It takes Jason a moment to catch on. “As a kid? Why?”

The brat looks up and speaks softly. “Habit. Sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason looks over at the toddler watching them irritably. “You got something you wanna say?”

“No.” Damian huffs. “You' voices are jus' annoyin'.”

Jason scoffs. “Same to you, demon brat.”

“Shu' up, Todd!” The little brat squeaks, obviously upset by the nickname.

Before Jason has a chance to tease the boy further though, the replacement interrupts. “Don't argue.”

“Don' tell me watta do, Dwake!” Damian snaps at the older boy.

At the sharp rebuke, Tim flinches and rests his forehead against his knees. “Sorry.”

Even the demon brat seems put off by that. The replacement is usually all for arguing with the latest Robin, but now he seems less inclined to it.

Jason stares at him for a few moments then carefully reaches over and ruffles the younger boy's hair. “Okay, new topic. It's fucking boring around here, let's set something on fire! … Purely for scientific purposes of course… and also maybe so I can light up.”

Both Tim and Damian groan loudly.

“So… that's a 'no'?”

***

“--Oh shit!” Dick leaps back out of the phone-booth as a long arm breaks through the glass and grabs the receiver, wrenching it away from him and snapping it off it's cord. “Bastard! That was the only quarter I could find!”

Making that joke is the only way Dick can keep himself from officially panicking. Long-legs was standing there with one arm still stuck in the glass. This is the first time Dick's seen this guy up close and he decides very quickly that this 'person' doesn't look much like a person at all. Certainly it's shaped like one, but its limbs are far too long for its body and every inch of it is covered in dark clothing. The sunglasses covering its eyes don't even seem to be perched on anything but the smooth surface of a jet black veil.

It withdraws its arm from the glass without so much as flinching and turns towards him. With a loud tap the metallic cane's point hits the ground in front of the creature and it folds its gloved hands over the polished silver handle. Then it speaks and its voice is just as unnerving as Dick expected it to be, a sing-song hiss like the night breeze through tall grass. “Found you.”

Dick backs up slowly, swallowing his fear. He has to think and think fast. “Not for long!”

“Oh?” There's a hint of amusement in the voice as the creature tilts it's head to an awkward angle. Just when Dick thought this thing couldn't get any creepier, it does.

Dick takes off running, praying the thing will follow him. He has to lead it as far away from the warehouse as possible, away from his brothers, just until he can lose it completely. Thankfully it sees fit to oblige him, moving at a strangely leisurely lope. Like it's not particularly trying to keep up, it's not interested in chasing. It's just following.

Putting on a bit more speed, Dick shouts back at the creature. “You ever think of joining the circus? You'd be a star in the freak show!”

The creatures pace never quickens and it never responds. Just follows.

“Seriously, creepy.” Dick grumbles. Time to lose the freak. He takes off at top speed turns several corners until he's certain he's left the creature well behind. Then with the practiced ease of a born acrobat he leaps off a dumpster and grabs a rung on a fire escape, quickly and quietly he ascends the structure to the rooftop and watches the ground below. Moments later Long-legs arrives at the crossroads below and pauses. It doesn't look back and forth, merely stands still for several minutes. Dick holds his breath and stays low. Then the creature turns and walks away down an alley heading west. Away from Dick, away from the warehouse.

Caution makes Dick wait for a few more minutes before he slips, silently, away across the roof. He thanks his lucky stars that he was making leaps wider than the space between Gotham's rooftops long before he ever met Batman. The jump is a cinch for him even with his diminished size. This will make the journey back much quicker. Fortunate, he has to get back to his brothers and get them out of the warehouse. They can't wait for someone to come find them any longer.

***

Bruce cannot remember being this terrified in many long years. Luckily his business with the League was wrapping up and he could return to Gotham to search for his sons without leaving the universe in terrible peril.

Of course, that didn't mean his teammates didn't think it was the end of the world when he told them he was leaving early. Understandable considering he was usually the last person to leave. A few of them had come up with humorous theories for his departure. Others seemed more concerned than anything. He hadn't waited for the inevitable questions of what was wrong and offers of help. He'd just left.

Once back in the cave he heads straight for the computer where he finds Alfred, faithful and stalwart as ever, standing nearby. “Sir.”

“Give me the details.” Bruce turns to the computer and starts searching the reports that Dick had left behind for any clues while Alfred explains.

“Last night all four of them went out on patrol together. When none of them returned to the manor after dawn I attempted to find them.” Alfred pressed a button bringing up an image in the periphery of the screen. “They were all gathered in a single building, unmoving. Thinking it strange, I contacted Miss Gordon who informed me that they had not moved in roughly eight hours. During our conversation I received a call on the manor's phone from Master Richard. He told me that there had been an 'incident' and all four of them required a pick up. Furthermore, though he did not say it, I deduced that the incident may have resulted in their ages having been regressed to a certain point.

“Aside from that I can assume that they were in a rather unsavory part of town as Master Richard asked me to bring the 'oldest, cheapest' car that we own. After getting that far, the call was cut off before he could actually tell me where they were. Miss Barbara is working on locating the payphone now.”

Bruce grits his teeth. Regressed ages and in a slum in Gotham. His sons were in more trouble than he thought. “How old would you say Dick was, from his voice?”

“I would say that he roughly a decade or so younger, sir.” Alfred responds tiredly. “Their last known position was in an abandoned, historical building in the East End. I doubt they left the area too far behind them.”

Bruce sighs and begins heading for the Batmobile. "Tell Oracle to call me if she finds out where the payphone was. I'm going to find the place their signals are broadcasting from. Maybe I'll find some clues.”

“Very good, sir.” Alfred sounds about twice his already impressive age for a moment. “There was one final thing. A sentiment shared by Miss Gordon and myself.”

Bruce looks back up at his aging butler, without speaking. He knows what the next words will be but he waits for them nonetheless.

“Please, bring them home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Alfred was fun to write! Bruce not so much. And yeah, the last scene was rather unnecessary, but it does tell us what the 'search party' knows in full and I needed to get a scene from Bruce's perspective in this thing.


	5. Insult and Injury

Dick lands abruptly in the middle of the small triangle his brothers have formed, making Damian and Tim squeak with surprise.

“The hell, Goldie?” Jason yelps. “You scared the shit out of me.”

The eldest brother looks shaken and that's never a good sign. “We're leaving. Now.”

“What?” Jason raises an eyebrow.

Sweeping Damian up into his arms, despite the younger boy's protests, Dick quickly explains. “I tried to get in contact with Alfred, but Long-legs showed up and decided to disconnect my call. I lost him in the streets but we can't stay here. Come on, Timmy, on your feet.”

“Pu' me down, Dwayson! I'm no' a baby!” Damian protests.

Dick holds him tighter. “No can do, Little D, you can't move as fast as the rest of us right now, and believe me we will be moving fast.”

Jason's on his feet pulling Tim up with him. “Okay fine, that's all great, but where even are we?”

The eldest brother looks pensive for a moment before responding. “The East End. That thing went south so we have to head north.”

“Through the Bowery? And Crime Alley? On foot!?” Jason's voice goes an octave too high to be taken seriously and he swears. “Ack, dammit.”

Dick pays no attention to it. A definite sign that something is wrong, Dick Grayson refraining from teasing one of his brothers. “Yes, Jay, on foot and now.”

Tim follows his older brothers around the crates that had given them shelter and towards a door at the back of the building, a much more discrete choice then the large half open one near the front. Now that Tim got a good look at the place it seemed purposefully set up as a place where homeless people could find clothes.

Jason's still talking, sounding highly agitated, probably partially due to nicotine withdrawals. “The walk's gonna take days! Through the worst parts of Gotham! This is batshit insane!”

“It won't take that long, Jaybird, and it'd be just as insane to stay here.” Dick replies, calmly. “I just saw a guy put his arm through a solid glass window just to tear a wire. I'm not taking any chances. Besides, it's not like we haven't dealt with Gotham's crime for years anyhow.”

Dick's laugh sounds strained. He obviously already knows that it's going to be very different for a group of children to face this trip than he's letting on. It's a comfort tactic, he's trying to reassure them with what they can do at their proper ages. With their bodies like this there's no way they'll be able to fight like they usually do. Especially not Tim and Damian.

“Where the hell are we even going to go?” Jason questions. “Far as I know, Leslie's out of the city on a charity trip, right?”

Dick shrugs. “We could keep walking until we reach the manor. I think Bruce has a safe house somewhere along the way. Though, I'm not really sure where it is. What about you?”

“I've got two.” Jason grumbles. “Lot of good that does us though since I don't have my damn keys.”

Sighing Dick adjusts his hold on Damian. “Alright, so pick the lock.”

“Don't have my fucking lock picks either, Goldie.” The younger brother responds in an irritated sing-song voice. “The balcony door on one of 'em might be unlocked but it'd be impossible to reach!”

Dick ignores him and looks down at Tim. “Hey, Timmy, any idea how long it'll take us to get to the manor on foot?”

Tilting his head slightly, Tim starts thinking. If they don't run into Bruce somewhere along the way and are otherwise very lucky, it's still five miles to Wayne Manor. Five miles in a straight line, possibly six, if they could travel by rooftops they might make it in an hour, but Tim and Damian couldn't make those jumps in their current condition. Jason might not be able to either. So they'd have to take the winding streets, adding another several miles to the trip. They'll probably walk five miles in the East End alone. Add to that the fact that they'll have to be careful, avoid certain areas, and take periodic rests, they won't be making it out of the Bowery before nightfall. “Maybe… eight hours.”

“'Maybe'?” Jason questions. “Like taking into account what?”

“Us being very lucky.” Tim responds simply.

The older brothers exchange a look that's nothing short of terrified. Dick swallows and draws Tim close to his side. “And if we're mildly unlucky?”

Tim tries to keep his voice clear but it automatically slips into a quiet mumble. “Ten to twelve hours. Damian and I can't walk for eight hours without resting. So it'll probably take us almost a full day to make it home.”

“Speak fo' you'self, Dwake!” Damian protests, squirming in Dick's arms.

Tim can't stop himself from shooting the toddler an annoyed glare. “It's not subjective.”

“Chin up, Timmy.” Dick interrupts the argument before it can go any further. “We've been through worse.”

Jason snorts. “Oh yeah? When? We're kids in the worst areas of Gotham being chased by hell only knows what. How could we possibly do any fucking worse?”

“Well, maybe we'll find something to pick a lock with on our way and be able to get into one of your safe houses.” Dick offers hopefully.

With a groan, Jason relents. “Alright fine… at least we'll find some food there. Dammit, just reminded myself that I'm starving.”

Tim feels his own stomach gurgle and sighs. “This sucks.”

A smirk crosses Jason's face, briefly. “You said that already, kid.”

Giving Jason a slight smile from around Dick's side, Tim notices a dark stain on the shoulder of the eldest brother's shirt. “Dick, you're bleeding.”

“Huh?” Dick tries to get a look at the injury but it's too far back for him to see. “I wondered why my shoulder was stinging after that jump.”

Jason grabs him by the back of his shirt and hikes the gray sleeve up to get a look at the cut. “Hold still for a sec, jackass.”

“It's okay! I think I got cut last night, probably just reopened it.” Dick grumbles. “We should just keep moving.”

“And we will. 'S not that bad. Long though.” Jason pokes the jagged cut maliciously.

Dick elbows him. “Ouch! Quit it!”

“He'll live. Let's scram.” Jason gasps out the words between coughing and laughing at the same time.

Damian's glaring at Jason now, clinging to Dick's neck and shooting the occasional irritated glance down at Tim.

Dick sighs and pats Damian's back with his free hand. “It's okay, Little D. Nice catch, Timmy.”

“Mm-hmm.” Tim smiles, but steps back away from his older brother, knowing it'll be difficult enough for Dick to deal with carrying Damian with an injured shoulder. Walking on his own is the least he can do to help out.

As he drifts away from Dick though he feels Jason snag the back of his shirt and give him a slight push. He hadn't even realized that the older boy had moved to the back of the group. “Stay where I can see you, brat.”

Tim looks back at him raising an eyebrow, slightly.

“Goldie'll kill me if you get lost.” Jason grins and ruffles the boy's hair.

It's a subtle, and perhaps unintentional, reminder for Tim that he doesn't need to worry. Dick's not the only one looking out for his brothers.

***

The sun is sinking towards the horizon steadily. It'll be another two hours before it sets completely, but today the bats are out early. Batman lands on the roof of the building, his sons' last known location, with the same silence as he would if it were already dark. It's a rather ancient structure, probably well over a hundred years old. Most well known for being one of Gotham's old libraries, but it has served many purposes since then. Now it sits empty and abandoned, saved from destruction only by the plaque on its front door that declares it a building of historical importance.

Carefully the dark knight slips down through a trapdoor on the roof, into the building. He descends several flights of stairs before he arrives at ground level. Cobwebs and dust now adorn his cape but he pays little attention to them as he walks across to the door that Oracle's intel indicates leads to the basement. As he reaches for the door handle it moves slightly and he immediately leaps back, blending into the shadows of the old building.

The door opens, admitting a familiar masked figure into the room. Bruce relaxes his guard. “Black Bat?”

She turns to him, no hint of surprise on her features, and inclines her head slightly in greeting. “Batman.”

“What are you doing here?” Last time he had heard from her she was in China.

She holds up one hand showing him a small device. “Homing beacon. I was in the area.”

“Of course.” Batman reaches out and takes the device from her. “Red Robin would have turned it on the minute he realized they were in trouble.”

Cassandra retracts her hand into the darkness of her costume. “Where is he?”

“I don't know.” Bruce admits, feeling his shoulders fall. “Was there anything of note below?”

She steps away from the door and motions towards it. “See for yourself?”

It's a request, not a statement. She genuinely thinks he will find something that she could not. Without responding he slips passed her to the stairway and continues his decent.

Distantly, she follows.

There are far more steps than there needs to be. It's hard to imagine a library needing a basement this deep. Unless of course the basement has nothing to do with the library itself. Which is exactly what Bruce begins to suspect when he comes to a metal door sitting ajar with it's hinges removed. Decisively he raises a hand to his ear and contacts Oracle on the comm. “Oracle, this building, was it used for anything before it became a library?”

“It seems to have been.” Barbara responds almost immediately. “But the only record I can find is from the opening of the library where they mention that it was housed in a previously abandoned building. No record of what it was used as before.”

“If I had to hazard a guess I'd say it was a mansion.” Bruce muses aloud. “I'm looking at an old wine cellar right now.”

“I'll look into it.” Oracle states. “I've almost got a lock on the payphone that Dick used, I'll call when I find it.”

“Thank you.” Bruce responds, grateful for the young woman's intuition. As he ends the call to Oracle he turns to Cassandra. “The door above, how did it look when you found it?”

“Closed.” A simplistic answer. “But clean.”

It had been used recently then. He turns back to the room beyond the metal door and, cautiously, enters it. There's an odd smell, one he can't quite place. He takes no chances and quickly covers his mouth and nose with his cape as he proceeds. The initial room is quite small, a narrow strip of space with a desk at the far end set to face the wall to Bruce's right. He turns and finds that there's a massive window part of which has been shattered leaving a gaping hole in one side.

There's a loud crack as he steps forward to examine the window more closely and he looks down. His own fragmented reflection is looking back up at him. Not a window then, a two way mirror. His eyes drift to the left a bit and focus on a dark red stain on the floor. It's impossible to know for certain, but from the fact that one of the jagged edges of the shattered mirror is similarly stained, he is fairly certain that it belongs to one of his sons. He shakes the fear of one of the boys being badly injured from his head. There's not that much blood, the injury is likely minor, right now it's better to focus on finding them and figuring out what happened.

Turning his attention to the room beyond the window, it's set up not unlike an interrogation room with less furniture. He enters it through the broken mirror, the way his sons must have left it. Three chairs are sitting back to back in the center of the room, a fourth lies splintered a few feet away from the broken mirror with shards stuck in the wood. Seems straightforward enough.

He continues his examination of the room, his gas mask now firmly in place. There's a door to the right. Expected since the only door in the wall outside had been about three feet too far away to lead into this room. He opens this new door with less trouble than he expected, making him wonder why his sons had chosen such a dangerous way out. Though perhaps the door had been locked at the time.

Slipping through into the hallway beyond he's confronted three more doors. One leads back into the original room, one of them is firmly locked from the opposite side, even the hinges are not available to be taken apart. The third however opens easily and within he finds various objects, laying about or hanging from walls, some of which he recognizes as belonging to his sons. Jason's guns, Tim's mini-computer, Dick's escrima sticks, Damian's entire collection of sharp objects, and all of their masks. He picks up a lighter laying near Jason's helmet and turns to Cassandra who is lingering in the hallway. There are two things he's learned from this. One, whoever did this knows his son's faces, though that was something he already expected. More concerning is the fact that this, whatever it happens to be, has been going on for a very long time.

He leaves the room and heads back up the stairs to the library. Cassandra follows him in silence. Finally, though, he turns to her. “I need your help.”

She tilts her head.

“As you no doubt deduced, Dick and the others are without their weapons and equipment somewhere in the East End.” Bruce removes his gas mask. “I have reason to believe that their ages have been regressed as well.”

“Regressed?” She questions, softly.

Bruce nods. “They're bodies at the very least have been reduced to those of children, no older than fifteen.”

“That is not good.” She grimaces.

He shakes his head, sadly. “No, it's not. I need you to help me find them before someone… or something else does.”

“Understood.” Her response is as always to the point.

He finishes his orders with something he never thought he'd have to say. “Go to the manor and get Alfred to show you the family albums, there are pictures there of when they were younger.”

With a silent nod, she's gone.

As he starts to leave as well he hears Oracle call him over the comm. "Oracle to Batman."

"Go ahead." He responds.

She obliges. "I found the payphone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to the next!


	6. Summer Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I just wanted to say, thank you guys for all the comments and kudos and stuff! It all really means a lot to me and I appreciate every single one of them! Okay, without further adieu, on with the show...

The sun is setting when Bruce arrives at the phone-booth. It seems that his sons walked at least an hour to the north of the building where they had been held captive. He crouches down to examine the fallen shards of glass. There's no blood, suggesting that whatever punched a hole in the glass was very well armored or simply didn't bleed. The only things lying with the shards on the cement were the phone's receiver and a single, dead arachnid. He remembers Jason mentioning something similar from the scene where Tim had been struck in the head.

Bruce leaves the creature lying where it had fallen and straightens up, looking about for any clues as to where Dick, and possibly his brothers, might have gone. Perhaps fortunately however, he trained his sons quite well. All bases were covered, no clues left to follow. So it's down to deduction.

He consults his mental map of the area. One of Jason's safe houses is a couple hours west of his current position. Tim has a hidden command center somewhere in this area too, but Bruce has never been able to find it. Both are valid options or would be if any of them had their keys. As it is those are safely tucked away in one of the pouches on Bruce's belt. So that leaves only one last place, one that only Dick would know of, though he might not remember it. An old warehouse that Leslie had convinced Bruce to set up shortly after Dick had come to live at the manor. It was filled with crates of clothes for homeless people.

That last fact alone made it worth checking out. He slips off down an alleyway, heading for the building. It's fairly quiet along the back streets and alleys. Strangely so. Usually there are at least a few homeless people huddled together around the area or muggers out searching for prey, but not tonight. The silence and emptiness breed an uneasy feeling. One that reminds Bruce of the various belongings lying forgotten in that old closet far beneath the ground. He wonders what happened to the previous owners of those possessions. Perhaps they too had been reverted to a previous age or perhaps his sons had been the lucky ones. It isn't a pleasant thought either way. Better not to dwell on it.

The warehouse looms now, dark and abandoned, just as he'd left it years ago. Nothing seems amiss or out of place from the outside. Still he slips in beneath the half open shutter door and begins looking for signs of activity. He finds some almost immediately. A crate that's been broken into recently, several boxes sitting open on the floor. Further exploring leads him to a small corner hidden by a row of empty crates. The sight of this small area nearly brings a smile to the dark knight's face. It had been a long time ago, in what almost seemed to be another life, but he remembered a ten year old boy setting up this small space like his own personal hideaway. It wasn't a base of any sort, just a child's attempt at one, no supplies were stashed in the building, no equipment. Indeed, the only thing that had been there at all was a blanket haphazardly thrown over one of the crates to be used as a tent. Dick had been so proud of it though, at the time.

The blanket was long gone now, probably in use for a much better cause, but memories remained. Memories that he needs to set aside if he's going to get anywhere in his search. His eyes scan the tiny space until the slight flutter of fabric catches his attention and leads him to a small space. There folded and tucked neatly between the last crate and the wall are all four of their uniforms. Jason's doing if Bruce ever saw it. The boy had always had an uncanny knack for being able to hide the strangest of things in the oddest of places.

So they had been here, now to figure out where they had gone. They had come from the south, but whether they would remember that or not was uncertain. It was more than likely that they would avoid Crime Alley and the Bowery, unless, of course, something had cut off any other escape route or they felt like north was the quickest option for them to find safety, then it wasn't impossible. It was better to check it and be sure. Quickly, he decides to leave west and south Gotham for Cassandra to investigate. He'll search north and east himself.

***

Shivering slightly Dick watches the last rays of the sun disappear below the horizon. Gotham at night is completely different when you're an unarmed thirteen year old instead of a well-trained adult with gas pellets. He sighs and hugs his two youngest brothers close to him. Flinching as the fabric of his shirt rubs against his shoulder wound.

Nearly thirty minutes ago the small group had stopped to take a break, huddling down in a small out of the way alley, together. Then Jason had jumped up like a kid who just heard the ice cream truck, ordered them to stay put, and taken off. There wasn't much choice in the matter. There was no way they would be traveling through Gotham City at night, especially not without Jason. Even if he does walk off and leave people minding the kids. Dick jokes to Tim, the only one he thinks will be amused. “That brother of ours is gonna make a terrible husband for someone someday.”

“I heard that, smartass!” Jason slips around the corner into the corner carrying some sort of satchel on his back. Smirking, he deposits his prize on the ground. “See if I share any of this shit with you after that comment.”

Dick leans forward as the two youngest sit up and greet Jason. He looks his brother up and down before questioning. “Where have you been?”

Jason crouches down and opens up the satchel taking out some fairly foul smelling but cooked meat. “Getting dinner.”

“Jay…” Dick holds off on gratitude as Tim grabs one of the pieces of meat from Jason and begins gnawing on it. “You didn't--”

“Relax, Goldie.” Jason snorts. “I might have conned, but I didn't steal. It's easy enough, just pick out the right sucker and walk up with puppy-dog eyes… really I should have taken you along, we might have gotten the good stuff instead of just the pickings.”

He hands an apple to Damian, who looks at the meat Tim's eating in disgust. “Wha' is it?”

A wicked grin spreads across Jason's face. “Rat, more than likely.”

Damian's face goes pale and Tim starts making a coughing sound. For a second Dick worries that Tim's choking but he quickly realizes from the grin on the boy's face that that's not the case. Still Dick turns a scowl on Jason. “Don't tell them that, jackass!”

“Pff, come on, Dickie, it's the brat's own fault for believing it.” Jason nudges Tim, roughly. “Oi, replacement, don't sit over there chortling like you knew it was a joke from the start. You coulda been eating rat.”

Tim gets control of his laughter and starts nibbling on the meat again. Commenting between bites. “Sorry… it was just… Dami's face…”

“Was fucking hilarious, yeah.” Jason finished for him. “But still you don't seem all that bothered by the rat thing, rich boy.”

“If this is rat…” The tiny boy looks up at Jason with a bored expression. “Then I'm a kitten.”

Dick took a piece of the meat and nibbled on it. “Tastes like tire rubber.”

“That's cuz it's really old jerky.” Jason shrugs. “Pretty sure it's from before the civil war. Some old granny was heating up a bunch of it over a fire. Absolute sucker material.”

Sighing Dick goes back to nibbling on the piece of old meat. Tonight is not the night to nitpick his brother's methods. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Wait on the thanks, Goldie.” Jason doesn't look him in the eye, choosing to rummage about in the pack instead. “We'll only know if I deserve any if we're not all dead in a few hours. Ah-ha!”

Triumphantly he pulls a lighter out of one of the side pockets. Dick rolls his eyes. “Did you really just get the food as an afterthought to your damn habit?”

“Hell no.” Jason gives him an offended look. “I was starving! The lighter was a nice bonus I picked up from somebody who didn't need it as much as I do.”

“So you stole it.” Dick munched on the piece of jerky as he talked.

Jason pulls his cigarettes out of his back pocket. “I 'creatively borrowed' it.”

“That place had been abandoned for years.” Dick stops eating and glares at his brother.

“Yeah, but you didn't know that when you snuck off to liberate some pants.” Jason starts to light his cigarette.

Dick narrows his eyes. “Hey, at least have the decency not to smoke that while we're eating.”

“Oh, excuse me.” Jason throws his hands up in a sarcastic gesture. “Not like I just hauled the whole fucking lot of it down here all on my lonesome to feed your sorry ass. I didn't have to share you know.”

“That's--” Dick starts to snap back but stops when he notices that Tim has curled up into a tight ball, hiding his face against his knees, his food completely forgotten. Then as he turns to ask the boy what's wrong, he sees Damian looking as fierce as he most possibly can and knows it's time to end this argument. The last thing they need is the two loudest arguers getting into it. Dick reigns in his temper and sighs. “I'm sorry, Jay, you're right, but… can you, please, smoke later?”

Jason appears to have noticed the problem as well. He sits staring at Tim for a few moments before he puts the cigarette back in the pack, sticking both the pack and lighter in his back pocket. “Oh, fine, food first. I can wait another twenty minutes.”

It's a begrudging silence, but eventually Damian's temper smooths and Tim begins to relax enough to eat. Disaster averted.

***

The night wears on in Gotham City and the small group remains in their little alcove. It's time for the horrors to haunt the streets and four unarmed kids would be easy picking for them. Night in Gotham is unforgiving. For the three other children resting while Jason keeps watch, it can only be nerve wracking. Well, maybe not for the Demon Brat, but that doesn't mean the little monster isn't taking the opportunity to cuddle up as closely to Dick as humanly possible. Though that might just be because he doesn't want to let Tim get too close to his favorite older brother.

Dick is leaned against a wall, his injured shoulder sitting at an awkward angle, holding Damian tightly and resting one hand near Tim's back. He's not asleep. Jason can see his eyes open slightly at every unnerving sound the city throws at them. He's not used to this, as a child Dick would never have been without someone to look out for him. Being the one who has to look after everybody in his current state probably makes it pretty difficult to relax.

Actually, the most surprising one is the replacement, who's busy snoozing away as if he hasn't got a care in the world. Jason has heard that Tim can sleep anywhere but this is beyond ridiculous. The boy is almost literally sleeping in a trash can, curled up in a tiny ball, with a newspaper wrapped around him. The kid was born for the hobo life.

Jason snorts a laugh at the thought and earns himself a glare from Mr Mother Hen, who proceeds to whisper. “I'm awake anyway, Jay, get some sleep.”

Waving off the idea, Jason takes his cigarette from his mouth, breathing out smoke with his hushed response. “I'm nocturnal anyhow, Goldie, worry about your own damn self.”

It's true, Jason was roaming the streets of Crime Alley after dark well before Bruce picked him up. He's more than used to sitting in dark alleys being less than the perfect son. So being the watchdog is fine by him.

Really, though he's more interested in staying as far away from the cuddly trio as possible. Dick is the only brother who truly cares about being affectionate, but the other two will seek out body heat like sharks. The littlest gremlin because he's from the desert and the other one because Jason's pretty sure he's some new breed of cat.

Jason closes his eyes for a second amused at his own joke, then he hears a whimper and his eyes snap back open. He looks in the direction of the sound and sees that Tim's twitching in his sleep. That's probably unusual. Snapping his fingers catches Dick's attention effectively and he points at the boy. Dick is quick to catch on but slow to move with the growth that is the Demon Brat hanging off his side.

“Why the hell is it always up to me?” Jason whines quietly and puts out his cigarette, moving to Tim's side and shaking him. The last thing they need is the brat waking up screaming because of a nightmare after all. “Baby bird, wake up. Hey, it's just a nightmare.”

Instinct causes Jason to clamp a hand over the brat's mouth just in time to prevent the scream from echoing through the alley. That would be the fastest way ever to draw all sorts of the wrong kind of attention. Jason speaks calmly, trying to avoid freaking the boy out more. “Easy, kid, you're alright, it's just me.”

“That's just gonna scare him more.” Dick hisses.

Jason really wants to punch him, but, unfortunately, he's a bit busy at the moment. Thankfully the kid doesn't flail, just looks up at Jason then slowly begins to relax. Cautiously the older boy removes his hand. “Better?”

Tim nods, catching his breath as he sits up. “S-Sorry.”

“S'okay. No harm done.” Jason scowls at the half a cigarette rolling on the ground a little ways off. “Except the loss of a perfectly good half a cigarette.”

Dick speaks up before the brat can apologize again. “Are you okay, Timmy?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tim gives a quick smile that's not fooling anybody.

Dick is somehow able to maneuver close enough to run a hand through Tim's hair. “It's okay, here, take a shoulder to lean on?”

“You're hurt, Dick.” Tim shakes his head.

Of course Dick doesn't take no for an answer. “Don't worry about it. Dami, don't give me that look. There's more than enough of me to--”

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Here.” Jason groans and moves in between the two, pulling Tim over so the boy's head is resting against his chest. “Now, all of you, shut the hell up and go to sleep.”

“But--” The brat starts to protest.

In no mood to play games, Jason wraps an arm around the boy tightly. “Sleep.”

Tim makes no further noise, settling in against Jason's side. Dick grumbles irritably though, making Jason wonder if maybe the eldest brother is just a little bit jealous that one of his baby brothers is clinging to someone else. That makes the whole thing worth it. Even if the price he has to pay is letting the replacement cuddle up to him, at least he's making the golden boy jealous in the process.

Within the next few moments however, Jason finds that the price he's paid is steeper than he initially thought. First Dick falls asleep on his shoulder, then somehow Damian manages to crawl in between them and starts repeatedly driving his tiny heel into Jason's ribcage. This makes Jason suddenly the center of a very warm pile. How any of these monsters can be so desperate for heat in the middle of a summer night is well beyond Jason's ability for comprehension.

Sometimes he really hates this family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason at the center of a Robin pile is a beautiful (and grumpy) thing... On to the next!


	7. North Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick heads up, there's some vague descriptions of Dick's injury in this chapter, nothing in depth but it's mentioned.

A single, cold drop of water lands squarely on Dick's nose, waking him almost instantly. He doesn't flinch or yelp, just slowly opens his eyes. In a few moments he remembers where he is and realizes that not only is he using Jason as a pillow, but the favor is being returned. Sometime during the night Jason must have dozed off, his head had slipped over to rest against Dick's. That brought a smile to Dick's face.

Between them Damian is curled up, snugger than a bug in a rug, looking content and warm. Dick envies him a bit, personally he feels like he's freezing his butt off. It's a chilly morning, which really makes it the best time to be moving on.

Carefully Dick reaches up and moves Jason's head so that his chin is rested against Tim's forehead. Jason's eyelids flutter for a moment but he doesn't wake up. Tim as usual is out like a light so he probably didn't feel a thing. That's good. Dick knows he's going to have to wake them up soon but it's better to let them rest as much as possible.

Sitting up and stretching Dick looks around. Somewhere out there the sun is rising, shedding light on the fog that blanket's Gotham. Far too little of its light is managing to seep through the thick shield of white. Conditions weren't exactly amazing for wandering around the city, way too easy to lose your way in a fog.

Still, they couldn't lounge about here forever, there's still something after them. That precious, creepy memory means it's time to get everyone on their feet. Feet. Dick looks down at his own, silently apologizing to them. They've been bare since yesterday, it's only through sheer luck that nobody's managed to step on broken glass or a rusty nail. How much longer could their luck hold out?

As long as it takes he supposes and reaches over to shake Jason awake. “Jaybird, come on, it's time to get going.”

“Hrm? Huh? Oh… guess I zoned out there for a sec.” Jason stretches his arms over his head and blinks the sleep from his eyes as they fall back down to his sides. One of them lands heavily in Damian's midriff.

“Hurk! Todd! Wa'ch wha' you' doin'!” The toddler drives his heel into Jason's ribcage.

Jason yelps and growls at Damian. “Ow, quit that, you little--”

Dick snatches Damian away from the angered preteen's side quickly, ignoring the toddler's squeak of protest. The acrobat doesn't really think that Jason would hurt a child at all, but it's better not to give Damian the opportunity to convince him to try. “Wake up Timmy, Jay.”

“Whatever.” Jason rubs his side and turns to Tim. “Up and at 'em, kid. Let's get a move on.”

At that moment Dick remembers Jason's last attempt to wake the boy and immediately regrets his request. “Wait!”

Apparently his worries are unfounded, Jason just shakes the boy a few times. When Tim barely stirs, Jason grumbles something under his breath and carefully hoists the boy onto his back. Dick stares at the scene, trying desperately not to let the fact that he thinks it's adorable show on his face. “Are you sure you're okay with carrying him?”

“You're injured and we don't have time to waste on finding a nice way to wake him out of his damn stupor.” Jason snorts, tugging one of the boy's arms over his shoulder after it slipped. “Unless you know a place that serves free coffee.”

Dick sighs. “Not here in Gotham, no. Alright then. Ready to go, Little D.”

“I still fin' vis degwadin'.” The toddler crosses his arms and pouts.

Patting the boy's head with his free hand, Dick sympathizes. “Sorry, Dami, but think of it this way, with you and Timmy being carried the chances of one of us stepping on something sharp and getting hurt go down about fifty percent!”

“Joy.” Jason grumbles. “Thanks for reminding me that my feet are still killing me. Damn, what I wouldn't give to be walking on nice grassy lawns instead of cement and asphalt.”

Dick smiles at him. “I know, Little Wing, but it won't be much longer before we're home free, so keep your chin up okay?”

“When you have a bratty kid snoring in your damn ear, you will truly know how I feel, Dickiebird.” Jason rebuts. “Until then my chin is gonna stay firmly down, fuck you very much.”

The statement hits Dick as he turns out onto the street and he starts to chuckle. It dies in his throat as he looks up and finds himself facing a familiar, creepy figure. “Oh shit.”

The metallic cane sits slightly askew it's point rested on the cement lazily, long legs make a single, vertical line from the ground to the suit jacket. It looked for all the world like it had just stepped out of a Gothic horror cartoon. Long-legs in all its freaky glory.

“Ah, they make this so much more difficult than it has to be, my darlings.” It croons as Dick drops into a defensive stance. “Come along now, precious ones. Can you not see that you are the breakthrough we have been yearning for.”

The voice must have woken Tim because Dick hears him whimper in fear. Dick backs up to stand next to Jason, who sets Tim down, keeping the younger boy behind him still. Without taking his eyes of the creature Jason murmurs. “Goldie, I think it's high time we got the hell out of here.”

“Really? I thought we might be able to sit down and have a nice cup of tea while we waited for Nasty over here to go away.” Dick jokes nervously, then gets serious. “Listen, on three, take Dami and run for it. I'll keep Creepy busy.”

Jason shoots him a quick glare. “What are you? Nuts?”

“Just do it, Jay.” Dick hisses through clenched teeth. “I know I can lose this freak, so just go. Okay?”

Before Jason can answer, Long-legs sighs. “How disappointing. Must they really force our hands every time?”

With a rush of skittering noises the creature is engulfed in a swarm of arachnids. The creatures spread out, twisting and turning in some kind of mad dance.

“Holy fuck!” Jason shouts.

Dick groans. “Just when you thought it was safe to think this thing couldn't get any creepier. Run!”

No one argues. Keeping Jason and Tim ahead of him, Dick herds them through the streets, the thing hot on their heels. They can lose it, he knows they can, they just need to get ahead of it enough. Unfortunately it doesn't show any sign of slowing down.

Suddenly, Jason drops back and grabs one of Dick's shoulders, ordering. “New plan. Dick, yell!”

“What?” Sometimes he really doesn't get this guy.

Jason doesn't miss a beat, giving Dick a rough shove. “Yell something! Yell anything! If he's around he'll hear it!”

Now it makes sense. Dick takes a deep breath.

***

The fog drifts idly by him as he continues looking for his wayward children. Bruce hasn't slept since the day before yesterday, but that's hardly a concern to him at the moment. Cassandra's search of the southern and western areas of the city in all directions far enough for a child to walk was fruitless. She's running another sweep. They've both spent the entire night searching.

With a sigh Bruce gives up his examination of a small alley, and leaps across the gap between two roof tops. At the moment he's not entirely certain whether his sons would have stopped to rest for the night or not. Alone, each of them might have kept walking through the night without regard for their safety or health, he rather regrets that they learned that by example. Together they might be more conscious of each others' well being, especially Dick and Tim. There was no real way to know though.

Walking across the rooftop, Bruce looks out over the rows of dilapidated buildings spreading out as far as the eye can see in the thick fog. The first few rays of sunlight are beginning to shine through. In the echoes of the city awakening he makes a silent request. To a deity, to fate, to the city herself. He needs to find them safe.

Almost in the same moment he hears a distinctive shout break through the near silence, distant but clear. “Batman!”

Instinctively he turns and heads for the shout with all speed. Either sleep deprivation is making him hear things or that's Dick's voice. He lands on a ledge nearest to the origin of the shout. The fog made exact pinpointing difficult, but he knows it was close by.

Then he hears the sound of something hitting a chain link fence and another youthful voice yelling, “Dammit, Goldie, this is—Oh crap!”

Bruce moves towards the noise and arrives to see a mass of dark, crawling things cornering his sons in a blocked off alley. He doesn't hesitate for even a second, leaping down and landing in front of his children, shielding them with his cape. The mass harmlessly bounces off the fabric and he notes with some disgust that it's made up entirely of harvestmen. The tiny arachnids retreat slowly, skittering back into the dark clothes of the odd being standing at their center. It tilts its head, humming out words. “My my, what a good daddy. We are impressed.”

“Who are you?” Bruce demands of the creature.

Its raspy sing-song voice takes on a hint of amusement. “'Who' not 'what'? More impressive still! Unfortunate, we do not wish to be known. Not by him. Not yet. Hm,… we shall disappear.”

Batman prepares to chase the creature as it sprints away across the empty street, but a hand catches his wrist, trying to hold him back. He stops and looks down into Tim's desperate eyes. “Don't.”

Bruce stares at the boy for a long moment, then looks around at each of them. Slowly, he kneels down and opens up his arms. Tim wraps his own about Bruce's neck in a tight hug. Dick is there in the next second with Damian held in one arm. Bruce wraps one arm about the trio holding them close, but leaving the other free, just in case. However despite his hopes, Jason stays away from the show of affection, though he does seem to relax a little and quips. “Took you long enough, B.”

“Thank God it worked.” Dick squeezes Bruce's shoulder with his free arm.

Extricating himself from the clinging arms of his sons, Bruce stands up and runs a hand through Dick's hair. “I heard you shout.”

“Jason's idea.” Dick wipes tears from the corners of his eyes with his thumb.

The boy in question finally edges closer to his brothers. “Goldie has the loudest and most familiar voice right now. I figured if anything'd bring you running it was him screaming his damn head off. My eardrums will never be the same.”

“Good work.” Bruce resists the urge to ruffle the thick mess of red hair. “Now what was that thing?”

Dick sighs. “Creepy? Obsessive? A snappy dresser? Your guess is as good as ours, B.”

Feeling his tension ebb away, Bruce can't find it in him to continue questioning them now, so instead he reaches up and taps his communicator. “Batman to Agent A, Oracle, and Black Bat, I've found them.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Barbara gasps across the line, sounding close to tears.

In the same moment Alfred questions, anxiously. “Are they well?”

“They seem to be un…” Bruce pauses as Jason reaches out and slaps Dick on the shoulder. It's not a particularly hard strike but it causes Dick to yelp like it was.

“Fuck you, Jason!” Dick snaps at the grinning boy.

Jason raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, you were about to just let it go, had to let 'em know somehow.”

“Did the idea of saying something cross your mind?” Dick snarls. “Or did it skip straight to hitting me, you little--”

Bruce interrupts their argument. “No major injuries. Jason, don't hit your brother. Dick, language.”

“Sorry, Bruce.” Dick responds, sheepishly. Jason flips him off. Typical.

Sighing, the vigilante ruffles Tim's hair, since the boy was starting to look stressed. “Let's all just go back to the manor.”

“Pass.” Jason holds up a hand as if to request that Bruce stop. “Just drop me off at my apartment, I'll just--”

“No.” Bruce states firmly. “I understand you're used to caring for yourself, Jason, but I can't in good conscience leave you to fend for yourself as you are.”

Jason scowls at him growling in response. “Is your conscience always your excuse for forcing people to do stuff, Bruce?”

Bruce ignores the statement and makes another attempt. “If you ever want to get back to your original age, you're going to have to--.”

“You got three other guinea pigs right here, B.” Jason raises his chin in a defiant gesture. “So why not just let me crawl off back to my pit and contact me when you're done?”

Being difficult is certainly not part of Jason's charm. Bruce tries not to scowl. “What if that thing comes after you? What if--”

“Don't try that concerned shit with me.” Jason backs away a bit. “I've heard it all be—”

“You're my son, Jason.” A last desperate plea to keep the boy safe.

Jason freezes looking like he's been struck. He stands stock still for several minutes, tense, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Fine, but at least let me pick up something from my apartment.”

“We'll head there after Alfred gets here with our transport." Bruce agrees, tapping the communicator again. “Agent A, pick up for five.”

“Already on my way, sir.” Alfred responds.

Bruce turns to Dick, noting that now, not only is he carrying Damian, but holding Tim close to his side. The latter appears to be slowly relaxing after a near panic, concerning. Fortunately that can wait a little while. “Dick, set Damian down and let me take a look at your shoulder.”

The young teenager obeys. “It's not that bad, just kinda sore.”

A cursory examination reveals that though it's long and jagged it has mostly healed, though the edges of it seem a bit red and slightly swollen. “You might have a minor infection, we'll have Alfred take a look when we get back to the Cave. Are the rest of you alright?”

“Peachy.” Jason grumbles, sarcastically, sitting down on the ground.

Damian's response is proper as always, if a slight bit amusing due to his speech impediment. “I'm well, Faver.”

Bruce nods. “That's good to hear. How about you, Tim?”

“I'm okay.” Tim replies, quietly.

Picking up Damian, who surprisingly make very little protest, Bruce herds Dick and Tim close to his side. Then holds out a hand to Jason.

The redhead stares him down with the same rebellious look he'd given Bruce on the day they'd first met. After a moment longer, he takes the offered hand and allows Bruce to pull him up. That's a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to get a handle on how to write Bruce, yay! Also, look! They're going home already? Don't worry, the story's not over by a long shot, the bad guy hasn't even been beaten yet, but I couldn't for the life of me think of a way to keep them out in Gotham for any longer with Bruce already looking for them.  
> On a final note, that's... actually a note. Harvestmen: are arachnids of the family Opiliones, closely related but not actually spiders. The specific kind I'm imagining here would be the Eastern Harvestman, which are the type I grew up with on the east coast. They have a natural tendency to swarm and from a distance they look like a cartoon drawing of a spider... *ahem* welp, back to writing for me!


	8. Tiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst, I drew Long-legs, [Check it out](http://the-dreamers-art.tumblr.com/post/144706588821/long-legs-the-villain-from-my-batman-fanfic-a)

Alfred soon arrives with the car and the entire group piles in. Bruce sits in the passenger seat and the boys take up the three back seats. Dick is hugging Damian to his chest while the toddler looks irate about being the only one not to have his own seat. Jason is seated behind Alfred as close to the door as he can possibly get and staring out the window, ignoring everyone else.

This leaves Tim in the middle. Which seems hilariously fitting for more reasons than one. He's forced to sit perfectly still, knowing that if he leans over towards Dick too much that Damian will get angry. Move too close to Jason, who's now quite obviously in a bad mood, and risk his wrath. Tim has to tread a very dangerous line. This is why he really hates being stuck in the middle, but there's nothing he can do about it. Seems like the perfect allegory for his life.

“What exactly are we picking up at your place, Jaybird?” Dick leans forward to ask the question.

Jason doesn't turn around. “Secret. You'll see when we get there.”

“Yeah, that's not ominous at all.” Dick rolls his eyes and slumps back against the seat. After a moment he lets out a contented sigh. “It feels so good to not be sitting one rocks or cement or heaven only knows what else.”

“I am certain it does, Master Richard.” Alfred glances at them in the rear-view mirror. “I shudder to think of the crimes against sanitation that you must have endured during your adventure. My my, I am loath to even wonder what you ate!”

Dick laughs. “I'll spare you the sordid details, Alfred, I fear they may cause you undue grief over our well being, but let me comfort you somewhat by saying, our resident expert has stated that it wasn't rat.”

Tim smiles as Dick ruffles his hair. Jason even turns slightly to give him an amused smirk. So maybe the middle wasn't so bad, sometimes.

Bruce looks back at them, by this point he's mostly changed into his civilian clothes. Cape and cowl neatly folded and stashed in the glove compartment, a gray sweater pulled on over the top part of his suit, and a pair of sweatpants pulled halfway over the lower. “Why is Tim the expert?”

“Ask him.” Jason snorts. “You aren't likely to get much of an answer though.”

His eyes slipping only briefly towards Jason, Bruce turns a concerned look on Tim. “You have been rather quiet. Is everything alright?”

“Fine.” Tim nods.

Bruce narrows his eyes slightly but doesn't press that issue. “Alright then, why are you the expert on rat meat?”

“Because I've eaten rat.” Tim states, simply, but it will provoke more questions, ones he can give short answers too.

“When?” Bruce never disappoints when it comes to falling for conversational traps.

Tim pulls his legs up to his chest and leans his chin on them. “When I was a kid.”

“Why?” Of course he's gonna go through the whole list of questions before they finish.

Sighing Tim decides this isn't worth it, so he tries to explain in full. He starts off okay, but he can't keep it up. “I used to follow you and Jason around remember? I met a lot of nice people during that time, but… some of them… were… kinda pranksters…”

“And you've just never forgotten the taste?” Bruce doesn't seem to notice or at least he tactfully doesn't bring it up.

Tim shrugs. “I don't forget much.”

Deep down he knows that only Damian and, maybe, Jason would be annoyed with him for talking too much. Still no matter how hard he tries he can't break free of the feeling that he shouldn't be talking. He knows why, he just can't shake it off. It's frustrating. He wants to help, wants to be useful, but instead he's just locked up inside his head with his own thoughts.

The car comes to a halt in front of a small building and, sighing, Bruce takes a set of keys from his utility belt. At first it looks like he's going to hand the keys over to Jason, who's waiting expectantly, then he hesitates. He closes his hand around the keys and starts to open his door.

“Hell no!” Jason practically launches himself through the gap between the front seats, forcing Tim to duck against Dick's side. “Bruce! Give me my damn keys!”

Tim can already see where this is going and curls up tightly against his eldest brother, covering his ears even though he knows it won't do any good. Bruce doesn't yell in response to Jason, but his voice is so deep it still manages to easily get passed Tim's defenses. “You expect me to send you up there alone?”

“I expect you to stay the hell away from my shit!” Jason snarls in reply. “Give me the fucking keys!”

Quite abruptly Dick wraps an arm around Tim and snaps irritably. “Jason, knock it off! You almost kicked Timmy!”

It's not true, Tim was well out of range of Jason's feet, but it makes Jason stop flailing immediately. Slowly he draws back to the rear seats and grumbles. “So what am I supposed to do?”

Nobody else sees the look that passes between Dick and Alfred, or the slight nod the butler gives before turning to Bruce. “Sir.”

Bruce hands the keys to the butler and looks away without argument. Then Alfred turns to Jason. “Would you be adverse to my accompanying you, Master Jason?”  


“No.” Jason raises an eyebrow. “You might be though.”

Alfred chuckles as he removes his seat belt and opens his door. “I have seen landfills, war zones, and Master Richard's apartment before laundry day. There's hardly anything you could show me that would offend me now.”

Jason smirks. “Don't say I didn't warn you.”

They get out of the car and are soon out of Tim's sight. Tim silently lets Dick keep hugging him, stunned that Damian isn't already trying to push him away. He looks up at the little monster and finds him staring back. Not a word passes between them, but a thousand are said. Tim closes his eyes, content in the knowledge that this one time Damian isn't terribly annoyed with him.

Dick leans his head awkwardly against Tim's. “Are you okay, Timmy?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tim smiles when his brother squeezes his shoulders.

***

Bruce leans against his door so he can keep an eye on the trio remaining in the car with him. Dick is acting for all the world like the mother hen he's always been. Speaking soothingly to Tim, who is obviously not as okay as he's trying to make everyone think he is. Damian is sitting rigidly on Dick's lap, glancing over at Tim every few seconds to give him a death glare, which always immediately softens into a look of begrudging sympathy. Bruce sighs. What has age regression done to his children?

Calmly he speaks, making sure his voice holds none of the threatening rumble of Batman. “Is everything alright?”

Dick gives him a winning smile. “I think so. We're all gonna need to have a long talk when we get back to the manor, preferably with a pen and paper readily available and lots of patience.”

“Agreed.” Bruce looks down at Tim, who immediately looks away. “What about signing?”

Tim raises his hands and signs, almost too quickly. 'Same problem.'

“I see.” Bruce sighs. “I'm starting to think it's too bad I left your cellphones in the cave.”

Dick nods. “Well, there are a lot of things we need to discuss besides Tim's silence and Dami's new speech impediment.”

“I 'alk jus' fine!” Damian protests.

A slight coo is the only indication that Dick heard him. “Even Jaybird's been weird… and I probably shouldn't have guilt tripped him like I did a minute ago, but…”

“You did what you had to, Dick, I'm certain he won't fault you for it.” Bruce doesn't quite believe that last bit himself, Jason isn't known for letting go of grudges.

Giving a halfhearted smile Dick turns to the window, seems he doesn't believe it much either. Damian and Tim are drifting off to sleep against his side as if they were already safe at home in their beds. In many ways they are, Dick has always been a symbol of safety to his friends and family. He was the one they always clung to when something went wrong. In a strange way it was like he'd become a safety net for his family.

Dick's eyes widened, abruptly, and he let out a chirp of bright laughter, waking the two boys beside him. “I do not believe this!”

Bruce follows his son's line of sight and can't decide whether he should smile or frown. Jason and Alfred are walking back towards the car. Jason wears a knowing smirk while Alfred looks entirely resigned to his fate. Bounding around them excitedly is a large, fluffy dog. At first all he can say when Jason opens the car door is, “You have a dog?”

A statement that's echoed by everyone else in the car at the same time.

Jason chuckles, then speaks to the dog. “Let's go, Tiny.”

Wiggling with excitement the dog hops into the car and starts licking everyone in greeting. Damian is ecstatic, trying to keep the black and tan mix's attention for more than five seconds, but of course it wants to meet everybody. After soundly greeting the entire car with affection, it lays half on floor and half on Jason's lap as the boy closes his door.

Damian is glaring at Jason, the initial enjoyment of meeting a new animal passing. “Why do you 'ave a dod, Todd!?”

“Hey, you can't deny me the right to my own hound just because I was the bad Robin.” Jason gives Damian a bored look.

Dick is lest interested in whether or not the dog should be there and more in the how of the matter. “Where'd you get him?”

“Her.” Jason corrects. “I didn't really, she's just been hanging around the area and maybe I picked up a bad habit from a certain jackass.”

Everybody immediately looks at Bruce for half a second then turns their attention back to the dog. He hates it when they do that, he doesn't even know what they mean by it.

Dick speaks up again. “So her name's Tiny?”

“Yep!” Jason looks so proud of himself.

Bruce feels the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “That's a very… you sort of name.”

“Yeah, well, it was that or Fluffbutt, so...” Jason shrugs.  


Dick continues his interrogation. “How old is she?”

“Five.” Jason states with confidence as he lifts the dog's head and tilts it back and forth gently.

Bruce frowns remembering nights where Jason had slipped away after patrol when he was Robin. He had always assumed the boy was hiding out somewhere smoking. “You were…”

He cuts off the revelation despite getting a confused look from the majority of his sons. Talk of Jason's time as Robin rarely passes Bruce's lips. It's not taboo, he thinks fondly of it sometimes, but it always leads to more painful memories.

Jason gives him a look that can only mean he knows what Bruce was going to say, but he too doesn't mention it.

***

Dick takes a running start as Alfred opens the doors to the manor and neatly somersaults over the old man's head, landing to the gratifying sound of Alfred exclaiming. “My word!”

The boy's never been happier to be home and, yes, it is home. No matter what, it always will be. “Hello, Wayne Manor! It's good to be back.”

“You have way too much fucking energy.” Jason grumbles as he ambles in behind the rest of the family, looking positively done with everything and everyone. Not surprising considering he'd spent most of the ride to the manor arguing with Bruce over whether or not he was allowed to smoke in the car. The decision had been unanimous. He wasn't. Not even with the windows rolled down. “I'm gonna go have a smoke. If nobody objects.”

He glares meaningfully around the room as if they're all traitors, until Bruce relents, reluctantly. “Just not in the manor.”

“Oh no, wouldn't dream of dirtying up your pretty fucking manor, B.” Jason takes his lighter and cigarettes out of his pocket and starts marching back outside with Tiny following loyally. “Excuse me, I'm just gonna go see what kills me first, lung cancer or heatstroke.”

Dick's glad that Alfred is the one who closes the door behind the angered preteen, since he's pretty sure Jason would have snapped it off it's hinges slamming it closed. Quietly the boy tries to give Bruce a reassuring smile. “He… He'll come around.”

“Doubtful.” Bruce sighs, Dick's pretty sure he wishes they'd all lost their memories along with their stature. It would have meant a second chance for him with each of them. Still the man shakes himself out of whatever reverie holds his attention and turns to Dick. “Go let Alfred take a look at your shoulder.”

Before Dick can even begin to come up with a decent excuse to avoid that, Alfred herds him through the secret door to the cave. Sometimes, just sometimes, Dick resents how good the butler is at that.

Once he's seated on the medical bed, or rather cold, metal slab, Dick looks around the Cave, viewing it through a child's eyes again. “It's so weird being back here like this, Alfred.”

“I imagine so, Master Richard.” There's amusement in Alfred's voice. “Not as strange, I'd wager, as seeing you like this again.”

Dick flinches when Alfred touches his injury, it doesn't hurt as much as it did, but it's certainly still sore. He tries to distract himself. “You know what else is weird? We all picked up little habits from the time when we were these ages. Timmy can't talk for some reason, Dami's being all sensitive to other people's needs, and Jason, ha! Jason's practically falling over himself trying to be look out for us. He was going to carry Tim this morning. All because he couldn't find a nice way to wake him up. That's just… not Jason.”

“And yet it is also very much something Master Jason would do.” Alfred finishes his examination and hands Dick a couple of pills and a glass of water. “These should take care of the swelling and pain. Nothing else should be necessary.”

Dick downs both the medication and the water without hesitation. He's glad to be drinking that actually tastes clean. Without even thinking he jumps right back into his discussion. “Thanks, Alfie, and it does sound like him and it doesn't. I mean he's been weird for a while, especially with Tim, but the past two days… I don't know, he's just been off. He acts almost like he did when he was a kid, less violent even. I just… I'm just starting to realize that the only thing that's different about me is… I'm not angry.”

“Master Richard…” The elderly man trails off, obviously at a loss.

All Dick can manage is a sad smile as he looks up. “What does that say about me, Alfred?”

“It says that you were always a very strong and capable young man, Master Richard.” The elderly man places his hands on Dick's shoulders.

“No, I mean, what does that say about adult me?” Dick hooks one hand over the butler's forearm, choosing not to look the man in the eye, his gaze drifting down to the floor. “Sure I grew up a bit, I became more mature, less of a prankster, but I gained an anger and a self-loathing that I just can't…”

Alfred tilts Dick's head up with his free hand. “You were raised under the watchful eye of a near personification of vengeance, Master Richard. The first son of a man who had no idea how to raise a child. Under those circumstances I'd say you turned out just fine. That you are free of the anger you feel as an adult is a blessing, enjoy it while you remain in this state and, when you return to your original age, remember it. Right now, I believe it is best that you, and your brothers as well, simply relish the chance to be children again, for however long or short a time that may be.”

Dick feels the tension leave his shoulders and he smiles. “I, uh,… I should probably go make my report to, B.”

“You should go take a shower and go straight to bed…” Alfred lets his arms fall back to his sides. “But as you are a Wayne, I doubt you will listen to my advice.”

“We listen, Alfie.” Dick tells him, then smirks. “To the important stuff.”

Alfred chuckles. “Of course, Master Richard, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, Tiny is a constant, in all my Batman fics. Jason didn't get a Bathound so I always give him a dog of his own. I'm picturing her sorta like a Leonberger/German Shepherd. I think he probably has cats too, but they're probably indoor/outdoor, technically-strays-but-he-feeds-them-and-lets-them-invade-his-house type pets. He put food out for them before he and Alfred left the apartment, so they'll be fine. He couldn't really do that with the dog.


	9. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, I hurt my wrist (don't worry it wasn't anything major), figured it was better to pace myself for a while... anyway here's the new chapter!

Dick skips lightly into living room after with Alfred close behind him. Reading the situation, though, brings a grimace to the boy's face. Jason and Bruce are standing in near opposite ends of the room, each avoiding looking at one another. Somewhere in the middle sits Tim on the couch, his eyes occasionally lifting from the floor just long enough to glance between his brother and father figure. He looks for all the world like he's trapped by the tension. The three of them are so distracted by this that it's Damian who first realizes that the butler and eldest brother have returned. The boy slips down off the couch and toddles over to Dick.

The teenager pats his little brother on the head before setting about defusing the situation. “Hey, guys!”

Tiny immediately jumps up from her position on the floor and bounds over wiggling all over. Titus too gets up from beside the couch and approaches at a more leisurely pace. Dick pats each one on the head and leans down to pick up Damian, before making his way over to the center of the room. He turns to Bruce. “Should we trade info?”

“Yes.” Bruce runs a hand over his hair and looks around at them. “Have a seat. Tim, do you need something to write with?”

Tim shakes his head and signs. 'I will try signing.'

“Okay.” Bruce leans against an armchair as Dick takes a seat beside Tim and stares at Jason until he too sits down on the couch. Then Bruce begins his questioning. “First of all, tell me about this creature that was chasing you.”

“Longlegs.” Dick says and looks over at Tim. “That's what Timmy and Jason called it.”

Tim nods and starts signing. 'It's the thing that gave me that concussion. The thing that he shot.'

After the last statement Tim gestures to Jason. Bruce's gaze doesn't even begin to slip in Jason's direction. “So tell me what happened the night before last.”

Dick answers. “We were coming back from patrol when we saw a deal going down between Falcone's men and Longlegs. We decided to pop in and see what they were trading in and after that well… I don't remember much of anything. Something about gas and cutting myself on something… then we woke up in a warehouse.”

“Yes, Leslie's warehouse.” Bruce acknowledges.

Dick pauses, a vague memory tickling the back of his mind. “…Oh! I'd completely forgotten about that! Well, obviously not completely. It must have been the age regression that made me bring us there.”

“More than likely.” A distracted response. “Cassandra and I found your weapons and masks in an abandoned library, I have Oracle looking into the place now. You all weren't the first ones in that basement. There was an entire room filled with identifiable possessions. Whichever one of you shattered that glass, you saved your brothers' lives.”

Dick looks over at Jason. That's the one thing he can remember, the person who cut his bonds, the one who must have shattered the glass, stank of Jason's favorite brand of cigarettes. His wayward little brother had saved them. Jason returns his gaze after a second and Dick takes the chance to give him a grateful smile. The younger boy's expression never changes, he just turns away.

“'Longlegs' seems to be an appropriate name for this creature.” Bruce interrupts the moment, unintentionally. “Anything you know about him could be useful.”

“We've pretty much gathered that he controls a legion of creepy crawlies and we were probably part of some experiment.” Dick lets Damian crawl off his lap and squeeze in between him and Tim. “At least that's what he seemed to be implying. Don't know why he used us, he should have figured that somebody would miss us.”

Bruce finally sits down. “I doubt that someone who keeps thousands of Harvestmen in his clothes is really thinking much of anything.”

“True enough.” Dick shrugs. “And aren't they called Daddy… Longlegs.”

Four pairs of eyes rest on him for a moment, then everyone sighs and Bruce grumbles. “I hate irony.”

'Not really irony.' Tim signs in Dick's periphery.

Bruce turns his full attention to the boy. “You've probably been doing a lot of thinking on this, Tim. Any ideas?”

'Nothing solid. I was half certain I was breathing in Scarecrow's Fear Gas for a moment.' Tim looks down at the floor as if trying to avoid their gazes. 'Could have the same basis.'

“I'll look into that theory.” Bruce speaks softly, an obvious attempt to encourage his third son. Then he turns to Dick. “Now your conditions. Give me some idea of how much you remember of being adults.”

Dick thinks for a moment. “Pretty much everything, but it all seems rather hazy… I remember my training and everything but it feels a bit like I haven't used it for a while.”

“Alright--” Bruce begins, but Alfred clears his throat loudly causing him to pause and look over his sons. His expression slowly softens. “That's enough for now. Go rest up until Alfred finishes supper.”

At first the change of topic confuses Dick, then he looks down at his two youngest brothers. They're nodding off, leaning against one another as if they've never once hated each other. He looks up at Bruce and smiles. “I'll--”

“You will go get some rest as well, I'll take care of them.” Bruce responds as he stands up, he finally turns to look at Jason. “You too.”

Jason settles in against the couch's arm and closes his eyes. “Yeah, sure, what the hell.”

“In a proper bed, Jay.” Bruce nudges the boy gently as he picks up Damian.

The redhead's eyes snap open again to glare at him. “Don't fucking touch me.”

Bruce recoils quickly, taking Damian with him and causing Tim to fall over sideways in the process. The man's expression changes from surprise, to grief, then back to nothing at all. He sighs and looks at Dick. Snagging the sleeve of Jason's shirt, the eldest brother drags him upright and towards the stairs. “Come on, Jaybird, couches are for sitting not for sleeping.”

Jason grumbles, but otherwise doesn't protest.

***

Bruce watches his oldest sons leave the room, then turns and gently shakes Tim. “Wake up, Tim, come on.”

“Five m're min'ts.” Tim snuggles down into the couch more.

Chuckling Bruce hands Damian off to Alfred. “I'll get Tim, he's heavier.”

“Not by much, I'm afraid.” Alfred sighs.

Bruce doesn't respond, choosing instead to lift the young boy into his arms. As he does however Tim awakes with a startled squeak. “I'm fine!”

Forced to adjust, quickly, Bruce only manages to save the boy from falling by hugging him close. “It's okay! It's okay, Tim, you're safe.”

“Bruce…” The boy relaxes slowly and wraps his arms around Bruce's neck. “'m sorry.”

Squeezing the fragile child slightly, Bruce murmurs. “Can you tell me what's wrong?”

“…No.” Tim mumbles, resting his head against Bruce's chest. “Sleepy.”

A smile finds its way across Bruce's face. “Later then.”

“Hm, later.” Tim yawns and closes his eyes as Bruce carries him up to his room. As he finishes tucking the boy into bed, Bruce looks up to see Alfred carry Damian into the room.

“What is it?” Bruce asks in confusion.

It's Damian who answers. “Dwake has nigh'mawes, somebody shou' s'ay wiv him.”

“And you're… volunteering?” The shock of that revelation is nearly too much for Bruce.

Damian grimaces and looks indecisive. “'m volun'eewing Ti'us!”

“Titus? You're volunteering your dog?” Bruce has to fight to control the volume of his voice. This is almost more shocking than Damian saying he'd stay with Tim himself.

The tiny boy nods determinedly as Alfred smiles at him in both amusement and admiration. “He was quite insistent that I bring him here to tell you this immediately.”

“Don't volunteer anything unnecessarily.” Dick pokes his head into the room. “Heya, Jay's taking a shower before he takes a nap so I figured I'd drop in to see how things were going. Seems like they're going in the direction of giving Bruce a heart attack. I see, Timmy's getting head start on sleeping through it all.”

Bruce shakes his head in exasperation. “Yes, he fell asleep before we reached the stairs.”

“I'll stay with him, this used to be my room anyhow so I might as well.” Dick shrugs and looks up at Damian. “You can allow that, right?”

“I suppose so, Dwayson.” Damian gives a slight nod.

Dick reaches up and pats the boy's head. “Good, now go get some rest, Dami. See you at supper.”

Alfred bows his head in thanks to Dick and leaves with Damian, who's starting to nod off again. When they're gone Bruce groans. “What is going on? First Tim can't talk without crushing anxiety, now Damian's volunteering his dog to help Tim sleep. I half expect Jason to come running in here and hug me next.”

“Don't count on it.” Dick smiles sadly. “Hey, can you sit with him for a while, I'm gonna go get Alfred to help me dig out some of my old clothes for Jay and Tim.”

Bruce rubs his forehead. “I probably shouldn't be standing right now anyway. A sudden revelation may knock me over.”

Dick covers his mouth as if to stop himself from bursting out into laughter and leaves the room. A second later a cheerful laugh fills the air. Bruce just smiles. The sound of that laugh is certainly nostalgic. The room goes quiet then and Bruce looks down at Tim, who's still sleeping soundly. The boy could probably sleep through anything. Again Bruce reassures himself, his sons are home. They're safe and sound. Even if they are acting a bit strangely.

***

Jason stands uncomfortably in the hallway before a familiar door. He knows it well, knows how many times it's been slammed shut or opened tentatively since the day Bruce had taken him in. What he's not certain of is what he'll find if he chooses to open the door.

Alfred had told him to rest until dinner, but Jason wasn't sure there was a place in the manor where he could even begin to feel comfortable. Once upon a time there wouldn't have even been a question of where he should go, but now he wasn't even sure this could called his room any longer.

“Doors are made for opening, Jaybird.” There's only one person who calls him by that nickname.

Sure enough he turns to find Dick standing behind him with a towel draped about his neck preventing water from his still soaked hair from drenching the back of his bright yellow shirt. The shirt is beyond ridiculous, but Jason can't even laugh at him since the one he's wearing isn't much better. “Not this one.”

“I suppose only you can decide that.” A slight smile plays on Dick's face. “You can take one of the guestrooms if you don't feel comfortable with--”

“Oh shut the hell up.” Jason growls as he turns the door knob and pushes the door open. He hesitates for just a moment when the door is half open but Tiny bounces forward and pushes through the small opening, wrenching the door from his grip. “Thanks for making the decision for me, dumbass.”

Tiny runs in and jumps up on the bed, sitting down, and waiting for her master expectantly. Jason examines the room from his position. It's exactly as he left it and he's not certain how he feels about that.

Dick leans against the door frame looking inside. “Well?”

Jason knows when he's being goaded, he knows that Dick's trying to force him to face this. He steps inside and picks up a book off the nightstand. “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, huh? Can't even remember where I left off. Alfie left it here, huh?”

“Well it was your copy after all.” Dick cautiously steps into the room. He's testing his boundaries, seeing how close Jason will let him get.

Jason narrows his eyes slightly at the older boy. “Don't you have somewhere else to be?”

“I do actually.” Dick laughs lightly. “Bruce is probably getting bored waiting on me to get back and sit with Tim, but this is important too.”

Sitting on the edge of his old bed and thumbing through the book, Jason grumbles a response. “What is?”

“Making sure you're okay.” Dick states casually.

Jason scowls at him and rubs Tiny's head as she shoves it under his arm. “What the hell are you even going on about.”

Dick shrugs as he crosses the distance between them, his posture relaxed, still testing that line. “We've all been a little… off, since we got turned into kids. It's just been kind of weird seeing you be so… nice to everybody but Bruce.”

“You're imagining things.” Jason curls his lip slightly in disgust. “I've only paid back a few debts.”

A fiercely protective look enters Dick's eyes for a moment but he visibly fights it back. “You don't owe us anything, Jason.”

"Like hell." Jason turns his undivided attention to scratching Tiny's ears. “Just back off and quit being so damn annoying.”

Dick takes a step back as if taking Jason's statement literally. “Jay, I just--”

“Go relieve B from nightmare watch.” He hugs his dog's neck. “And take care of the one's you've got left.”

There's a long moment of silence before he hears Dick's footsteps retreat to the bedroom door, then pause. “See you at dinner?”

“…Sure.” Jason relents as he flops back on the bed. He waves a hand and hears Dick leave. The room smells only slightly stale, there's no dust lingering over the various things still left laying about. Alfred's been in here cleaning, recently. Jason can't quite say he feels comfortable here, not with the past hanging about like a hungry ghost, but it's not like there would be much of a difference with any other room he chose. Besides it would be annoying to have to go pick out a whole new room to sleep in. Too much trouble. This one will just have to do. He closes his eyes, trying to forget for a moment that he's not actually twelve years old, lying in his own bed, in his own room. For just this little while, he can be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to the next!


	10. The First Step

After waiting for quite some time for Dick to return, Bruce picks a random book off Tim's shelf and starts flipping through the pages casually. He's already read it, but it's something to do while he waits. Selecting a section he remembers enjoying to start from he reads and quickly loses track of time. Then he hears Barbara's voice from the communicator in his ear. “Oracle to Batman.”

“Go ahead.” He states without taking his eyes off the book.

There's an air of anxiety in her voice as she asks. “Firstly, how are they?”

“Apart from being eight to ten years younger? They're fine.” Bruce glances over at Tim.

Anxiety is replaced with amusement. “Wait so Dick's like thirteen? I wonder where I put my camera.”

With a chuckle Bruce closes his book. “They're resting right now, it's been a rough couple of days for them.”

“And for you.” The girl insists. “You should be resting too.”

He sighs, they all worry too much. “I will,… later. Now I'm certain you didn't contact me just for a lecture on proper sleeping habits.”

“No.” She's reluctant to change the subject, but relents. “I found out more about the library. Turns out you were right. Big surprise. It was a manor at one time, belonged to a guy called Quentin Vann back in the eighteen hundreds. He was an eccentric billionaire who's entire family was wiped out during a minor outbreak of influenza in Gotham. Not long afterward Quentin vanished without a trace. There's not much more info than that. It seems the townsfolk were pretty much equal parts upset and indifferent about the whole affair. Quentin was well liked for being generous, but he looked kinda strange so people were willing to essentially forget about him without much complaint.”

“Strange? How?” Bruce is half sure he already knows the answer.

There's a light sound of tapping as she responds. “Um, no idea what caused it, if anything outside of a quirk of nature, but he had something called Dolichostenomelia, which causes--”

“The limbs to be disproportionately elongated.” Bruce finishes for her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

Barbara sighs. “Sounds like you know him?”

“Something like that.” Bruce responds as Alfred enters the room. “Thank you for you help, Oracle. That will be all for now.”

Alfred gently wakes Tim as he speaks to Bruce. “Dinner is prepared, sir.”

“That was fast.” Bruce sets aside the book he's been holding and stands up.

The butler smiles slightly. “Not particularly. It has been nearly an hour. Will you be joining the young sirs for this meal?”

Bruce shakes his head. “I'm afraid not. I have work to do.”

“You mean you have sleep to do, right?” Dick demands from the doorway. “Alfred told me that you haven't slept, not that I hadn't already guessed, but seriously, B, sleep, it's your friend.”

Raising an eyebrow at his son, Bruce tries to argue. “And just how much sleep did you four get last night?”

“More than you.” Tim mumbles as he crawls out of bed.

It was nice to know that the boy still had an attitude when it really counted. Bruce starts to reach out to ruffle Tim's hair but quickly withdraws the hand when he sees the boy's shoulders stiffen. Instead he just retorts gently. “But apparently not enough that you didn't need to take naps.”

Tim yawns as Dick rebuts Bruce's point. “We slept in an alleyway, he's a nine year old, and I didn't take a nap.”

Bruce scowls at him, but only gets a smirk in return. “…Fair enough.”

“Go get some rest, B.” Dick pulls Tim over to him and loops his arms around the boy. “Alfie and I will keep an eye on everything, right?”

“Of a certainty, Master Richard.” Alfred affirms.

Dick smiles. “See? And besides one more day of this isn't gonna hurt anybody.”

“It very well might.” Bruce crosses his arms. “We don't know exactly what sort of chemical you all were hit with. If we wait too long to find a way to fix what ever happened, you all could be stuck like this.”

“Or it could wear off in a couple days with no adverse effects.” Ever the optimist, of course. “Either way it won't do us any good to have you're over tired ass working on the problem right now. Worst comes to worst, I'm certain somebody from the League can restore us to our original ages. Go get some rest.”

“Hnn, fine.” Bruce groans, it's more than a little embarrassing losing an argument with a thirteen year old, but he makes a valid point. “Happy?”

“Very.” Dick smirks like the little imp that he is. “Now if you'll excuse us, our dinner's getting cold. Goodnight, B. Come on, Timmy, let's go get Dami! Alfred's on Jason duty.”

Tim makes an unhappy sound and Dick ruffles his hair affectionately as they leave the room with Alfred close behind. Bruce follows them all out and watches the two young boys walk off in the opposite direction of Alfred. Hearing Dick laugh, seeing Tim smile, like actual children, actual brothers. He feels his shoulders relax and allows himself some of Dick's optimism. Whatever happens, they're going to be fine.

***

An hour after supper, Tim finds himself on the couch, reading a book, alone. It's a familiar position, being a child in a huge house, wrapped in total silence. He spent most of his young life doing pretty much exactly this while his parents were away on digs or simply adventuring. Even when they were home he had tried to be as quiet and out of the way as possible. His parents hadn't been able to deal with him, he understood that then and still kind of gets it. Not being a bother to them was important, they worked hard and didn't need a child under foot while they were trying to relax. Things aren't like that anymore though.

Even though it's quiet, he knows he's not actually alone, he even knows exactly where everyone else is. Dick's down in the cave, he didn't say what he'd be doing but Tim suspects that he's doing his own research on their condition to help out. Tim really feels he should be there too, but Dick told him to just rest. Jason's sleeping, which is good, since Tim's pretty sure that the older boy got less than an hour of sleep last night. Damian has been wandering around on the first floor muttering darkly about being hindered by his size. Alfred is cleaning only one room over, he peeks in on Tim every once in a while and occasionally herds Damian away from the stairs. Bruce is still sleeping, but he'll probably be awake in less than an hour to get back to work, because that's just how Batman works.

More than all of that though he knows that, at the very least, Dick and Alfred wouldn't be bothered at all if he just wanted to follow them around and talk. He doesn't, or rather he can't, because right now the entire idea of that feels alien. Still it's a nice thought, that he really wishes he could act on. He really wishes he could talk to someone right now.

“Wha' awe you weadin'?” Anyone but the little menace currently trying to crawl up onto the couch. It takes Damian a few minutes but he does succeed in scaling the short height and he sits on the cushion looking at Tim expectantly.

Tim looks down at the book. “I'm not really.”

“Le' me see.” Damian tries to grab the book.

Instinctively, Tim leans away, holding the paperback out of the smaller boy's reach. “What? No. Why should I?”

“You awe no' weadin' it.” Damian just shrugs as he tries to reach the book with one short arm.

Rolling his eyes, Tim reluctantly lets the toddler have the book. “It's not even that interesting, just something I had in my room.”

Damian eyes him for a moment as he turns the book over in his tiny hands. “You awe talkin'.”

“Huh? Oh… it's, uh,…” Tim looks away, it's true he feels less nervous talking to Damian than anyone else, though he still keeps his voice soft. “Probably because you're littler than me.”

Confusion etches itself across Damian's face. “Why wou' vat ma'er?”

Tim hesitates. On the one hand he probably won't get another chance to voice this, but on the other he's not really sure he wants to, especially not to Damian. “It just does.”

“You do no' seem to have any twouble wunnin' you' mouv to people who awe lawge' van you no'mally.” Damian narrows his eyes. It's supposed to look intimidating, but it just ends up like an adorable child's rendition of the bat glare.

Tim tries very hard not to laugh, knowing it wouldn't go over well. “It's just a problem I had as a kid… I got over it when I started following Bruce around.”

“Vat was?” Damian's expression twists in thought. Of course he doesn't know, Tim's never really discussed with anybody how long he actually spent following Batman and Robin around.

“When I was ten.” He shrugs. “I figured if I was going to be snooping around in Gotham I'd need to start learning how to talk my way out of situations. So I learned… drove the poor housekeeper up the wall in the process and learned that coffee is awesome.”

Damian snorts in something vaguely resembling amusement. “Incwedible, an' he'e I vought you we'e jus' na'uwally annoyin'. Why vis pwoblem vough?”

Tim draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. He's not gonna get out of this, that's plain to see. “Hm… My mother didn't like it when I was noisy or got in trouble. I even learned to cry silently, so I wouldn't disturb her. She was pretty busy most of the time,…both of them were. They didn't have time for… my problems… they had their own to deal with.”

The toddler gives him an odd look and it takes a moment for Tim to catch on. There's a short silence between them before Tim tries to explain a bit. “I mean, they just argued a lot… nothing major. When they weren't arguing it was better to stay out of their way. I just… didn't want them to…”

“Figh' anymo'e.” Damian's gaze slowly sinks to the floor.

Unable to really voice his point, Tim just carefully wraps an arm around the younger boy's shoulders and murmurs, “Yeah.”

Damian curls up against his side and hands the book back to him. “Jus' wead, Dwake.”

“Okay.”

***

Dick isn't really doing much research, actually he's doing a whole lot more waiting, Babs filled him in on what she had told Bruce already over the communicators. After that she had told him that she would come over to 'help'. He knows quite well what she actually means by that, he's well aware that she's bringing the camera, but he figures it's her funeral when she tries to get a picture of Jason or Damian. Right now, he knows he could really use her help. So he waits for her. Spinning around periodically in the chair at the console, because there's no one there to tell him not too and he's small enough now that his feet don't crash into every possible thing when he does it while sitting sideways.

As he slows down from a particularly long spin there's a bright flash of light that causes him to flinch and close his eyes. When he stops seeing spots he looks over to find exactly who he expected. “Hey, Babs.”

“You look precious, boy wonder.” She coos as she checks the picture on her digital camera. Then she looks up with a small smirk. “I bet the suit fits and everything.”  
Dick stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “Hm, it probably does, I'll have to try it out later.”

Her face slowly slips into a scowl. “How long have you been up? Tell me I'm not gonna have to give you the lecture we always save for Bruce and Tim.”

“Relax, Babs.” Dick chuckles. “I've been up since dawn, but I have slept and I do plan to go to bed… just not right now.”

“Time frame, buddy, or I am delivering the lecture right now, so help me.” Barbara crosses her arms and gives him a pretty decent imitation of the bat glare.

“Well… I'm sharing a room with Tim so…” Dick shrugs. “I'll go to bed when he does.”

She rolls her eyes. “This family is filled with hypocrites.”

“You're just noticing this?” He gives her an incredulous look. “And quit worrying. Timmy'll probably dose off around midnight and Alfred has strict instructions to come and get me when he does.”

“Midnight is four hours away, Dick.” She wheels her chair up beside him. “…How much do you expect to get done in four hours?”

Dick gives her his most dazzling smile and lets her have the computer. “Enough to give B a head start. Here, you do your computer thing, I'm gonna get to work on the chemical analysis of our uniforms.”

“Alright, but I'm not gonna be dissuaded from gathering my blackma-- I mean, taking pictures to remember this precious moment.” She grins at him.

He just laughs. “What are you talking about, Babs? You intend to blackmail me with what? The fact that I'm literally the most adorable thing to walk this planet? Everyone already knows that.”

“I see your ego hasn't been affected.” She jokes. “How do you fit all that narcissism in such a tiny body?”

Dick sticks his tongue our at her. “See if I save you when you get around to taking pics of Jay and Dami. Oh! Oh, right! Babs, you've got to meet Jay's dog! She's incredible! I have never met a creature that was made of entirely fluff and love before, but there she is! Being the sweetest thing since straight sugar! I don't even know how Jaybird got such a cute pet. He's such a grump! I mean an adorable grump of course, he is my little brother after all, but--”

“Oh for heaven's sake, Dick, stop talking!” She whines, laying her head down on the console. “I'm paying. I'm paying for my sins. I don't even know what those sins are, but I'm paying for them. I completely forgot that you used to never shut up.”

“It's part of my charm and you know it!” He retorts, mischievously, as he finishes setting up the equipment he needs and gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My secret dream is for Damian and Tim to eventually just become friends in canon...


	11. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long!

Alfred is frankly shocked when he walks into the living room to find Masters Damian and Timothy sitting on the couch quite amiably. Master Timothy is quietly skimming over the pages of a book with his eyes while Master Damian leans on his arm and appears to be reading along. When Master Timothy begins to turn a page too soon Master Damian elbows him roughly, but this provokes no retaliation.

The room is stunningly peaceful and Alfred is loath to interrupt it, though he knows that, being that it's nearly midnight, it is well passed time for the boys to be asleep. Especially Master Damian, nap or no. Gently, he clears his throat, drawing their attention. “Forgive me, young sirs, but I fear it is time for you both to go to bed.”

Master Damian scowls. “We awe fine, Pennywo'v.”

On the other hand Master Timothy immediately closes the book and crawls down off the couch. Thoroughly infuriating Master Damaian who squeals. “Dwake! Ge' back he'e! I wasn' done weadin' vat!”

Master Timothy casually hands the book to the boy, murmuring, “I've read it before.”

The book seems huge in Master Damian's hands, but he bravely soldiers through carrying it, as he grumbles. “I'm no' tiwed.”

“Then you may sit up and read for as long as you like.” Alfred lifts the toddler into his arms. “So long as you do it in your own bed.”

Master Damian grumbles under his breath, but aloud he only says, “Vewy well, Pennywo'v, I adwee to you' demands.”

“I am endlessly grateful, Master Damian.” Alfred adjusts the tiny child's weight and carries him towards the stairs. Master Timothy follows obediently. They reach the second floor only to meet Master Bruce on his way, no doubt, to the cave.

He seems somewhat surprised to see Alfred with both the youngest brothers. “Um...”

“Master Richard is in the Cave with Miss Gordon working hard.” Alfred chooses not to answer the real question. “If you would be so kind as to send him to bed after you've finished speaking with him, I would be much obliged.”

Master Bruce nods and steps out of their way. “Of course, Alfred… Jason?”

“In his room, sir.” Alfred sighs.

A sorrowful look enters Master Bruce's eyes. Then he seems to shake himself and turns back to the stairs. “Ahem, well, goodnight, boys.”

“Doodnigh', Faver.” Master Damian responds, politely.

At nearly the same moment, Master Timothy whispers. “Goodnight, Bruce.”

Continuing down the hall a ways Alfred pauses in front of Master Timothy's room and looks down at the boy. “Can I trust you to go straight to bed, Master Timothy?”

“Yes.” A simplistic and honest answer.

A smile plays across Alfred's face. “Sleep well, Master Timothy.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.” The tiny child hesitates, then adds. “Goodnight, Damian.”

He gets a reluctant response. “Doodnigh', Dwake.”

Alfred merely pats Master Timothy's head and carries Master Damian off towards his own room. Maybe this whole affair has had its benefits.

***

Bruce descends into the cave, pausing on the last step as he realizes that he's walking into the middle of a conversation. Silently he observes, not really meaning to eavesdrop, but after all it is his cave.

“How's the analysis going?” Barbara asks never taking her eyes from the monitor before her.

Dick grimaces. “Well, so far we've got dust and gunpowder… lots of gunpowder… and ash.”

“Jason's?” A small smirk crosses Barbara's face.

The boy groans an affirmative. “Yes…”

“How's he doing?” She glances over at her younger companion.

Dick throws his hands up, dramatically. “Ugh! Don't get me started! I talked to him before supper and he's all 'you're imagining things' and 'I'm just paying back debts' and 'leave me alone, I wanna be an angsty baby instead of admitting that I actually want to be part of the family again'… okay, maybe he didn't say that last one, but you get the idea.”

“Give him time, Dick.” Barbara smiles, fondly.

Leaning back, Dick whines loudly. “I'm trying! But I'm losing my patience! I'm ten seconds from-- Oo! Hang on! There it is!”

“The 'unknown chemical'?” Barbara turns to him.

With an excited grin, Dick starts typing on a small console beside him. “Yep! That makes two!”

Bruce decides it's time to announce his presence. “Two what?”

Dick yelps and leaps into the air like a startled cat. Twisting around in midair, the boy lands backwards in his chair and peers over the top of it at his mentor. “Holy--!”

“Don't.” Bruce warns knowing exactly where Dick was going with that statement.

Giggling with one hand over her mouth, Barbara contains her amusement long enough to ask, “Did you really not know he was there? Come on, Dick, you're better than that.”

“Well, excuse me for being a kid again.” Dick sticks his tongue out at her. “I was distracted!”

Barbara's expression becomes somewhat mischievous. “Oh, right. Adolescent hormones.”

Dick's entire face turns beat red. “I—Wha—I never said—you're—That's not--”

“Report.” Bruce interrupts his son's nervous stuttering, trying very hard not to laugh.

Clearing his throat Dick turns to Bruce. “Uh, well, I ran a chemical scan on our uniforms and found an unidentified substance present on both mine and Jason's. I haven't gotten to Tim's and Damian's yet but two out of four isn't bad. I'm running scans to see if it bears any similarities to something we've already encountered.”

Barbara picked up the report. “I've been doing research on our friendly neighborhood arachnid enthusiast, seems like sightings of him go back quite a few years. Mostly they've been dismissed by authorities as shock induced hallucinations or urban legends. If sources are to be believed then there are quite a few deaths that can be attributed to him. He generally seems to stick with the homeless and destitute, though every once in a while a wayward middle class citizen would fall victim. Normally the victims are close to or over the age of twenty, but obviously he's not adverse to taking younger victims… or rather lab rats. A few corpses have shown up that seemed a few years younger than they should have, though never as severely as the… um…”

“Batbros.” Dick supplies, unhelpfully.

She chuckles. “Yes, the Batbros. Often the corpses were devoid of many of the scars they should have possessed.”

“Which is a difference our condition has from them.” Dick rolls up his pant leg and shows of a thick white scar on his shin. “This one's pretty recent. Within the last year or so.”

Bruce contemplates this information. “So he's likely changed up the formula. Now is it because he wanted scars to remain or because he didn't want the gas to kill his victims?”

“I'd say the latter.” Dick sits properly in his chair and spins it around to face Bruce. “He had no way of knowing our scars remained when he said that we were a major breakthrough for his project.”

“So he wasn't trying to kill you.” Barbara grimaces. “I don't even want to think about what he would have done if you guys hadn't escaped.”

Dick gets a familiar look on his face, he is cataloging that statement for future use. Bruce has a vague idea what he was going to use it for. His eyes stray to the glass case on the far side of the room, but he quickly returns to the task at hand. “Anything else?”

“I hacked the security cameras on the buildings surrounding the old library.” Barbara leans back and scowls. “Haven't seen a single movement all day. Cass has been making the rounds too looking for our guy. Also I managed to get the footage off a traffic camera of the whole fiasco this morning… or rather yesterday morning. Is it really that late?”

“It is.” Bruce turns to Dick. “Which reminds me, Dick, go to bed.”

The boy starts to protest, because of course he would. “I--”

“I mean it, Dick.” Bruce states firmly. “Alfred already sent Tim and Damian to bed, go.”

With a heavy sigh the young acrobat climbs out of his chair. “Just don't go running after Long-legs alone, alright? If you find him tonight take Cass with you.”

“Don't worry, Dick.” Bruce ruffles the boy's hair. “Get some rest.”

Dick relaxes a bit and yawns as he starts walking towards the stairs. “Yeah, okay.”

When he's gone Bruce turns to Barbara. “Anything I should know before you leave.”

“Cass spent the day at my place, she says she'll drop by tomorrow.” The young woman responds. “I'm going to see if Steph wants to come too.”

Bruce groans softly. “In other words, 'be prepared for chaos'?”

“You got it.” She laughs as she wheels off towards her specialized van. “See you tomorrow, Boss.”

***

Sitting in the bay window over looking the lawn, Jason enjoys his first cigarette of the morning, listening to all the sounds of a quiet world. It's all so far removed from the cacophony of the city to the south and he doubts he'll ever be able to get used to it a second time. Waking up to darkness and silence makes him anxious now.  
The air is nice though and he loses himself for a few minutes in the sensation of a cool night breeze, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. After a little while he puts out his cigarette on the outside edge of the window, sticking what's left of it back into the pack. A habit that comes back to him so easily. Too many habits come back so easily here.

It seems like every time he's managed to settle into a comfortable distance between him and his 'brothers' something happens that makes them want to pull him closer into their quirky little 'family'. He can't afford that. There are reasons why he keeps his distance. Good reasons. Sure, most of them involve avoiding Bruce, but that doesn't make them any less legitimate.

Tiny's distinctive whine draws him out of his reverie. She's good at that. He opens his eyes and looks about the dark room for her. She's seated beside the door staring at him, the quiet keen rising and falling the longer he doesn't move. He raises an eyebrow. “Wanna go out?”

She stands up slowly and paws at the door.

He stands up and wanders over to open the door. Before entering the hallway he sticks his head out and checks it. Empty. Predictable, really, it's after midnight so Bruce is probably already in the cave, the brats and Dick were more than likely sleeping soundly. Good, that meant he could sneak downstairs and only have to worry about running into Alfred.

To his surprise though, Tiny has other ideas. She pushes passed him into the hallway and bounds off in the opposite direction from the stairs. Jason scurries after her, trying to catch her before she wakes the entire household. She slows a bit as she reaches what used to be Dick's room and he manages to catch hold of her neck. Looking up at him she wags her tail and drags him forward until their standing directly in front of the door. Then she stops and sits down. He scowls at her and points back towards the stairs. She just looks at him.

Rolling his eyes he decides that she must want to check on the other boys she met today, or maybe she's looking for Titus. Relenting he sticks his head into the room and looks around. All three of his 'brothers' are there. Dick and Damian are on a futon on the floor. All of Dick's blankets are thrown haphazardly around his bed. The demon brat's wrapped up in a little blanket cocoon, with his dog laying at his back. Replacement seems fine too, sleeping soundly in the bed. Nothing amiss here. He withdraws from the room and glares at Tiny before marching away from the room with the huge dog following close behind.

Returning to his own room he pauses before entering it and looks down at his dog. “Well?”

She wags her tail and bounds off towards the stairs. With a sigh of resignation, he follows her down to the kitchen and lets her out through the door there. Watching her prance about in the grass and chase bats that dive too close, he leans against the door frame.

“Good morning, Master Jason.” Alfred appears like magic. “I trust you slept well?”

Jason turns to the old butler. “Well as can be expected, Alfie.”

“Ah.” Alfred sets a kettle on the stove. “Tea, I assume.”

Frowning slightly, the boy responds. “You don't have to make anything for me.”

“'Having to' is quite different from 'wanting to'.” An affectionate smile that's more painful than a knife between the ribs.

Jason looks away quickly. “You're just as bad as them, you know that?”

“Your brothers, you mean?” A calculated response.

Instead of responding, Jason walks over and sits at the small counter, leaning on it heavily.

“If I have become 'as bad as them', as you say, then I am grateful for it.” Alfred takes a pair of teacups from the cupboard. “Though, they have been so desperate in their attempts to return you to us that I fear they have become a tad too obvious.”

“I can't, Alf.” His voice sounds strange to him, filled with more heartache than he ever wanted to reveal. “I'm still… I still hate him so damn much…”

There's a short lull in the conversation before the old butler speaks again. “Would 'him' be Master Bruce… or yourself?”

Of course, the old man has hit at the very heart of the matter. Jason swallows and rests his head on his forearm, folding the other over the back of his neck. “Both.”

He hears the distinctive whistle of the kettle. A moment later a slight clink and a calming aroma tells him that a cup of Earl Grey has been set in front of him. He turns his head and lifts it a bit to watch the butler sit down beside him with his own teacup. Alfred closes his eyes for a moment. “Forgiveness comes with time, Master Jason, and family is more often than not the ones who require it. In the meantime, it may be… prudent to remember, Master Bruce is not the only member of this family. Your brothers adore you… no matter what you have done, and there is no obstacle I can see which prevents you from allowing that.”

“…I've… really hurt them.” Jason fiddles with the handle of his teacup. “I still could.”

Alfred sips at his own tea, patiently. “So you have… and so you could. However, I see that such fears have not prevented you from taking in a pet.”

“She… Tiny didn't have anyone else…” Jason looks away.

The butler sighs. “At times… neither do your brothers.”

“Pardon my french, Alfie, but bullshit.” The redhead rakes a hand through his hair. “They've got each other.”

Alfred lays a hand on Jason's shoulder. “And yet… they still need you.”

“For what?” Jason gives him an incredulous look.

The old man shakes his head. “Who can say but them?”

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Jason sits up straight and looks around the kitchen, before he allows his gaze to rest on the butler once more. “And… you? Do you… need me here?”

Alfred doesn't speak, but there's a profound sadness in the smile he gives Jason that says that all that needs to be said.

Quietly, Jason picks up his teacup and takes a drink.


	12. Down Time

It's a clap of thunder that wakes Tim, making him sit bolt upright, though he manages to stop himself from yelping in alarm. The rain is pouring down outside with cloud cover so thick it's impossible to tell whether it's day or night.

Tim shivers as a much quieter rumble of thunder breaks the rhythmic sound of the rain. He still feels like his bones are shaking from the one that woke him. Silently he contemplates turning on the small television at the foot of his bed, but decides against it when he hears Dick's quiet snore. Looking down he can see his eldest and youngest brothers curled up on a mattress beside his bed. Titus is there too, alert to his movements, but not really bothering with him.

He sighs quietly, if he turns on the television he'll almost definitely wake them and he knows Dick hasn't had a good night's rest in nearly forty-eight hours. It's better to let them sleep.

Another loud crack shakes the entire house, thankfully drowning out Tim's quiet squeak of alarm as he buries his face in his blanket. It's actually stunning that both Dick and Damian are still asleep. At their proper ages the pair are the lightest sleepers in the household, excluding Bruce and possibly Alfred. However Tim hadn't really known them at the ages they are now, so maybe this was normal for them.

Still trembling slightly, Tim lifts his head and looks around. His nerves are never going to calm if the storm keeps up and with every roll of thunder there's a chance he'll wake one of his brothers. It's better if he just sneaks out. There's a television in the Den, Alfred won't be too upset that he's not in his room so long as he's sleeping and the couch is somewhat comfortable.

Carefully he slips down off the foot of his bed and edges around his brothers. Titus raises his head and watches him curiously but doesn't make a move. Tim makes a clean get away, slipping through the already open door and making his way down the hall in his bare feet with complete silence.

Navigating the stairwell becomes momentarily quite intense when another clap of thunder makes him jump. He clings to the railings to keep himself from falling and waits for his heart to stop racing. Knowing another incident like that is likely to send him tumbling down the stairs, waking the entire household in the process, he lowers himself down onto the step he'd been standing on and carefully, slides down the rest of the way.

Ground level and he's pretty sure he's never been more grateful to have his feet on the floor. He's definitely glad that Steph's not here to see this. A few lights are on around the mansion but Tim's pretty sure that Alfred's either in bed or down in the cave with Bruce. Which means he doesn't have to worry about running into the old butler and being sent back to bed.

Tim makes his way to the den but stops short when he hears the television and sees flickering light. Somebody's already in there. He hesitates, because it's almost certainly going to be Jason and Tim's not certain what sort of mood the older boy will be in, risking it could be ill-advised.

Tim is given all of a second to realize that the mass of fur hurdling towards him is Tiny before he's nearly bowled over by the huge dog. He lets out an involuntary squeak of alarm, then falls into quiet giggles as the dog licks his face. Jason's there in the next minute, attempting futilely to haul Tiny away from Tim. “Dammit, dog, don't you ever listen? Sorry, baby bird, 'morning.”

Awkwardly, Tim hugs Tiny's head and murmurs, “Good morning.”

Jason leans down a bit to look Tim in the eye. “Thunder wake ya?”

Tim nods as Tiny finally gets over her excitement and lets him hang onto her.

“And you couldn't get back to sleep, so you decided to come watch TV in the den?” Jason looks up as a loud rumble shakes the house again.

With a quiet yelp Tim buries his face in Tiny's fur and clings to her comforting form.

“Okay.” Jason's voice is strangely comforting as he puts a hand on Tim's shoulder. “So baby bird's afraid of thunder? Since when?”

Tim mumbles into Tiny's fur. “When I was a kid.”

“Oh, right.” The hand withdraws to run through Jason's thick hair. “Well, come on, you can sit and watch TV with me, long as you promise to be quiet.”

“Okay.” Tim whispers.

Jason gently turns Tim's face towards him. “That was a joke, dumbass. Be as loud as you damn well please. Won't bother me at all. Got it?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tim does everything but meet Jason's gaze as he responds.

“Damn, brat, what'd they even do to you to make you like this?” Jason grimaces.

It was phrased as a rhetorical question, but Tim has one of his own as a response. “Who?”

“Whoever the hell was supposed to be in charge of taking care of you before B picked you up.” Jason stands up straighter and puts his hands on his waist. It's a stance that Tim knows Jason must have picked up from Dick, makes him look commanding and protective at the same time.

Tim adjusts his hold on Tiny, trying to understand what Jason's getting at nobody had the time to bother doing anything to him. “Nothing.”

Jason seems to understand, though he doesn't look happy about it. For a second it seems like he's going to say something serious, then he looks away and grumbles, “Oh forget it, s'not worth it. Let's go watch some toons or something. B's got like a thousand channels he never uses and I'm gonna try to put his cable bill through the roof in one night.”

Tim smiles and follows Jason to the couch. He sits awkwardly on the piece of furniture, not really sure of where he should be. Jason seems to be in a good mood but that doesn't mean he'll be okay with Tim sitting too close. Just because Jason invited him to watch cartoons doesn't mean Tim's gonna expect miracles.

Abruptly, Jason pulls Tim closer to him and out of the way of Tiny who scrambles up onto the couch. “Dammit, dog.”

Now tucked against Jason's side Tim squirms a bit as Tiny crawls across to lay her head and forepaws in Jason's lap. That solved that problem, though Tim was still worried that Jason was irritated with this predicament. He looks up at the redhead's face.

Jason just sighs and ruffles Tim's hair. “Go to sleep, baby bird. Tiny'll protect you.”

Tim relaxes and turns his attention to the television screen as he lays his head against Jason's side. Wrapped in warmth, reminded that he's not alone by the steady rise and fall of Jason's chest, Tim closes his eyes. Suddenly the thunder doesn't seem quite so frightening anymore.

***

Jason watches out of the corner of his eye as the youngest Wayne brother approaches the den. The toddler peers around the door frame at the pair on the couch. He looks hesitant, uncertain. It's enough to make Jason want to laugh, but he doesn't want to risk waking the kid sleeping beside him. Instead he waves Damian over and speaks softly. “You like Bugs Bunny?”

Damian scrunches up his face. “Wha'?”

“You know, the cartoon rabbit.” Jason allows himself a look of shock as he realizes that the kid actually doesn't know. “…Holy shit, what is B teaching you little fuckers. Get over here.”

The brat obeys, dutifully, toddling across the floor with Titus following regally. Jason makes sure to keep a hold on the scruff of Tiny's neck, because a hundred pound dog leaping up in excitement and stepping on him would definitely wake Tim up. Thankfully, Damian doesn't need any help hauling himself up onto the couch. Titus lays down on the floor as Jason points the remote at the TV. “Okay see the stylized rabbit?”

Damian gives him a look of disgust. “I am no' blind, Todd.”

“Watch.” Jason settles in and takes more enjoyment out of watching the kid's expression run the gauntlet from bored to outraged confusion than the cartoon itself.

“It does no' make sense!” Damian squeaks as the cartoon comes to an end. “I wespec' ve hun'ew's tenaci'y bu' his s'wage'ies awe ludicwous a' bes'! A' wowse vey--”

Jason chuckles. “They're not supposed to make sense, kiddo. They're supposed to be funny, which they are, you just gotta remember not to think about it too hard.”

Damian scowls at him. “It wa' somewha' amusin'… Wha's Dwake doin' down he'e?”

Jason carefully squeezes Tim's shoulders. “Thunder freaked him out, I guess.”

“Dwake likes s'owms.” Damian narrows his eyes like he suspects Jason of foul play. “He delibewately volun'eews to pa'wol when it is s'owmin'.”

Tim shifts in his sleep and murmurs something. Jason ignores it. “Yeah, well,… people change… what about you? What brings the baby bat down to hang with the middle kids?”

“Dwake wen' missin'.” The toddler glares at his sleeping brother. “I wa'…”

Watching the brat struggle to find a good excuse for his concern was equal parts sad and hilarious. Jason adjusts his position to try and get more comfortable, annoyed to discover that his leg's fallen asleep. That's what he gets for owning a monster, cuddle hound. “No shame in admitting you were worried, kid.”

“Tt.” The toddler scoots over just a little closer. “He seems to be incapable of cawing fo' himself… an' if somevin' happened to him Faver and Dwayson wou' be vewy distwaught.”

“Yeah probably.” Jason sighs and grumbles. “Well, s'none of my business anyhow. You're welcome to stay but stay put and go the fuck to sleep. I don't wanna deal with Dickie if you're sleep deprived tomorrow.”

Damian twists about and lays back against Tiny, not quite touching Tim, but pretty close to it, “Shu' up an' play 'nothew cawtoon befowe you comple'ely wuin you' wepu'ation, Todd.”

Jason snorts a laugh. “Aw, baby bat's worried about me.”

He pats Damian's head and almost gets bitten for his trouble.

***

Dick wakes up to silence and sits up quickly when he realizes that he's alone. Tim's bed is empty and despite the tell-tale signs that Damian had visited during the night, he too is absent. From the way the light enters the window it's fairly obvious that it's getting close to noon, so Dick's not terribly worried, figuring that his brothers have probably relocated to bicker elsewhere.

He stretches and yawns as he hears Jason's voice screech from somewhere downstairs. “What the fucking hell!?”

On his feet and out the door in an instant, Dick only stops when he hears the chorus of giggles and exclamations that tell him exactly what's going on. The three Batgirls are up to no good. Steph rounds the corner and starts climbing the stairs when she spots him. Automatically she raises her phone and snaps a picture seeming disappointed when he smiles for it. He just chuckles. “Watch it with that thing. It can be a dangerous weapon against you when pointed at the wrong people.”

She grins mischievously. “Oh, like who exactly?… You know, so I can avoid them.”

“Well, not me obviously.” Dick smiles at her and sits on the top step. “But I won't save your hide from Jason's vengeance now that you have a picture of him being adorable… I will give you twenty bucks if you send it to me though.”

“Done and done!” Steph gives the last word an exaggerated flair and walks up the rest of the stairs, holding out her phone to him. “There's six pics of the scene down on the sofa before Jason woke up. Speaking of which.”

Dick takes the device and swipes back through the pictures as she dives into a nearby room to hide. He tries desperately not to coo loudly at the sight of his brothers curled up on the couch with both dogs cuddling on the floor. Tim was curled up against Jason's side with Damian tucked neatly under his chin.

“Where is she, Goldie!?” Jason appears at the bottom of the stairs, his face red with what's probably a mix of fury and embarrassment.

“Who?” Dick asks, looking up from the pictures with a with a winning smile.

His brother fumes as he marches halfway up the stairs. “Where's that little blackmailer, Stephanie fucking Brown!?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Dick raises the cellphone and takes another picture for Steph's collection. “Is Steph here? I haven't seen her.”

“Dick!” Jason vaults up the stairs, with surprising speed and tackles him, trying to get the phone. “Delete that right now, you fucker!”

Dick throws the phone. “Steph! Go long!”

“I got it!” Steph leaps out of the room, grabbing her phone in midair, back flipping off the wall, and dashing off down the hall.

Jason tries to follow her, but Dick's faster, wrapping his arms about his brother's waist. With a growl of frustration, Jason tries to flip him off. “Let go, you piece of traitorous shit!”

“No! I can't let you murder her until after she sends me those pics!” Dick laughs and tightens his grip around his brother's abdomen. Effectively holding him back and cuddling him at the same time. “I only have four pics of you and one of them's a mugshot!”

“Oh fuck! Delete that!” Jason hisses and twists around to shove Dick in the face. “I swear it was you who got me arrested that night!”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Dick throws his weight to the left, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He rolls though so Jason lands on top of him, preventing any real injuries. “Was it the fact that I was laughing when I picked you up or that I bailed you out in the first place. Ha, the look on your face was priceless!”

“Why you nasty--” Jason elbows him in the side, forcing him to release his grip.

Dick recovers quickly though and snags Jason's arm before he can get too far. He pulls his brother back and into a headlock. “Nope! You're not getting out of this! I'm gonna take advantage of being bigger than you for as long as it lasts, little brother.”

“Oh my actual fuck, Dick!” Jason tries everything in the Bat Book of Getting Out of Headlocks to escape, but Dick knows all the counters. “Alright already! Uncle! I give! Get the hell off me, you fucking octopus!”

Dick switches the hold to a hug and laughs. “Aw! And it's been so long since we roughhoused… without actually trying to kill each other. That was fun… but seriously, promise me you won't go after Steph.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I promise.” Jason grumbles and pats Dick's good shoulder, looking irritated but resigned.

Then a screech echoes through the manor. “Damian! Put that down, you little jerk! Don't you dare! Tim, help!”

“No, bad Damian.” A monotone, terribly sarcastic response.

“Traitor! And I was gonna send you them too!” Steph yelps, there's a crash, then a wail. “My phone!”

Dick slowly looks over at Jason, giving him a meaningful glare. It has no effect on the preteen who merely grins and flips him off. “Hey, I didn't do anything, big bird! It was all Replacement's idea. Shoulda covered all your bases, Dickiebird.”

Rolling his eyes Dick gives his brother an affectionate shove and starts making his way towards the commotion. “Dami! You are so buying Steph a new phone as punishment!”

“I wefuse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sibling bonding...


	13. Unaware

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this chapter took so long...

As the majority of her bickering family files into the first floor sitting room where she and Barbara wait, Cass watches them curiously, especially her now younger brothers. They look so strange in these small bodies, it is easy to read that they remain mostly the same however. Some things are different, off, a little odd, but they are still them.

They don't speak to her at first, too caught up in their argument, but she's content to simply watch and listen for now. Dick is speaking, his hands doing much of the talking for him, as is usual for Dick. “I can't believe you three! Seriously!”

Tim seems to shrink and hide behind Jason, his tension clearly written across his face rather than buried as it usually is. “Sorry.”

“Dwake! Do no' weaken! We mus' pwesen' a uni'ed fwon'!” Damian protests, his head held high, ever arrogant.

Stephanie, still holding her smashed phone, sniffles a bit. “You smashed my poor phone to bits with a hammer! It never did anything to you. Tim, I know you planned this… all of this! I'm totally blaming you.”

Before Tim can respond Jason gives Stephanie a malicious grin. “You should be thanking him, Brownnoser, I wanted to kick your pretty, little ass, but baby bird talked me down.”

Ignoring him Stephanie crouches down to Tim's level and displays the phone to him. “As payment, you're gonna fix this!”

“O-okay…” Tim picks at the device and grimaces, he definitely can not fix it.

Damian huffs. “Dwake, uni'ed fwon'!”

“Mm-hmm.” Tim looks away.

Crossing his arms, Dick scowls down at Damian. “At least Timmy's trying to apologize! You didn't have to destroy poor Steph's phone, Dami! You could have just deleted the pictures!”

“She desewve' it!” Damian declares, his posture indignant and unrepentant. “If she canno' leawn to contwol ve impulse to a'emp' to make mockawies of us all ven she shou' be pwepa'd fo ve consequences!”

Jason rolls his eyes and leans on Tim. “Baby bat, nobody can understand a damn thing you're saying. Simplify.”

“Who's side awe you on, Todd!?” Damian snaps at him.

Dick's exasperation is more than evident as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I bet you can't even actually apologize, can you, little D? I'll bet Timmy's apology will be so much better than anything you can think of.”

The toddler's face twitches, he seems to be well aware that Dick's trying to goad him, but his pride will not allow him to back down from such a challenge. “I… I apologize, Bwown,… I will buy you a new, possibly be'er phone once I have been westowed to my pwope' age.”

With a grin, Dick picks Damian up and hugs him close. “Good job, Dami! I'm very impressed, that was a very nice apology.”

“Do no' patwonize me, Dwayson.” Damian crosses his arms and scowls.

Stephanie smiles and puts her destroyed cellphone on the table. “Thanks, kiddo. I'll be holding you to that promise.”

“You know.” Barbara, who has been quietly stroking the head of a large black and tan dog, finally speaks up. “Your whole plan was pretty much in vain anyhow… Cass and I have pretty much all the same pics that Steph got…”

The room goes quiet until Jason flops on the couch, dramatically. “Just… keep the damn photos. I give up. It's too early for this shit and I need a smoke.”

“It's after noon.” Barbara snickers. “Oh, and cute dog by the way, Jay.”

Jason snorts. “Yeah, she's a real peach. Can't even be bothered to bark when strangers appear and start taking blackmail photos…”

The dog wags her tail in a way that seems apologetic and with that the commotion pretty much dies away. Dick carries Damian over to Barbara and starts chattering away to her about the pictures, hopeful to get them all printed out so he can have one to put in his apartment somewhere. He sets Damian in her lap as he talks and the toddler glowers at her. She doesn't seem bothered by the stare, just gently starts stroking the back of his head until he starts to nod off.

Tim, now free of Jason's weight and influence, finally turns to Cass, his posture relaxes, a welcoming gesture. He is trying to greet her without speaking and to make her believe he is not afraid. Which he is. She can tell. Thankfully, she's fairly certain she knows how to make him see that everything is alright. Maybe. It might not work when he's like this. Still it is worth a try. Silently she walks over to him and wraps her arms about his tiny shoulders, murmuring. “Hello, Tim, I missed you.”

She feels him relax in her arms and return her hug. “Missed you, too.”

It worked, she's grateful, the Tim she knows has always trusted contact more than words. Cass knows that, she understands it in a way. Releasing him from her hug she places her hands on either side of his face. “You are well?”

“Mostly.” He smiles, genuine and tired. Still so hesitant, but definitely happy to see her. It is easy for her to understand him a lot of the time, he communicates through body language quite often, but she has to watch him carefully, he has found ways to lie even to her. Thankfully, it doesn't seem as though those skills have carried over to this younger form. His movements are almost painfully honest, showing quite clearly that he feels uncomfortable standing out where attention could be turned to him at any moment. Cass understands and pulls him over to the couch to sit next to Jason.

Jason is always honest, he gives her a curt nod of greeting and ruffles Tim's hair. It is an oddly affectionate gesture, he seems happy, not a state she expected from him. Not here. There's still a hint of discomfort in his eyes but otherwise he seems fond, even content. She is glad, it is good to see him well, she likes Jason now, she didn't used to, but that was because he had caused so much pain to her family. Something had changed along the way though and now Jason is a part of that beloved family whether he chooses to acknowledge it or not.

Stephanie commandeers Cass's phone and starts snapping pictures of a very disgruntled Damian at the behest of Dick who truly seems to be having the time of his life. None of them have noticed that another person has joined their group. Standing in the doorway, watching on, radiating peace and happiness, Bruce gives her a slight nod before stepping forward. “Good morning, everyone.”

Nearly everyone jumps in surprise and Jason yelps. “Dammit, B!”

Scooping Damian up into his arms, Bruce nods to Tim as he continues speaking. “Tim was right, the chemical you all were exposed to shares some basis with Scarecrow's Fear Toxin, but it's definitely different, for one the effects it causes are very real. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to synthesize an antidote from the little that stuck to your clothes.”

“Of course not.” Barbara interjects, leaning back in her chair, obviously amused that he would even insinuate that he could manage that.

Dick smirks and glances at her before speaking to Bruce. “Alright, so what's the plan?”

“Tonight I'll be returning to the library to see if I can discover Long-leg's location or some sample of the gas you were exposed to. To my knowledge he hasn't returned there so it's not unlikely that something was left behind.” There's a slight apprehension in his demeanor now, he's looking around at each of them in a way that says he knows he should take back up, but he does not wish to endanger any of them.

Cass stands up and steps towards him. “I will join you.”

“Cassandra…” He looks like he is trying to find some excuse to dissuade her.

She speaks with a little more force. “I will go.”

Sighing, he inclines his head in acceptance of her demand, then immediately turns to Dick who looks as though he's about to speak, Bruce doesn't let him. “I need you to stay here and keep an eye on things for me. You all should be safe, but we can never be too careful. Somehow this Long-legs seems to be able to track you and I'd rather you were all safely out of harm's way.”

Dick gives a slight, reluctant nod and steps back, while Barbara speaks, “I'll stay with them.”

Stephanie grimaces. “Ugh, I've got a test I have to study for… I can't stay.”

“You can always study here.” Bruce encourages prompting a glare of suspicion from Dick.

The oldest brother crosses his arms and looks up at their father. “Bruce, we're not actually children, okay? Between the security and our own skills we've got this… You can still stay if you want to, Steph.”

“Sure.” The girl shrugs, somewhat amused.

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, hugging Damian closer. “Let's… let's not argue about this. Alfred actually sent me to tell you all that breakfast will—is ready right about now, so shall we?”

Dick dashes passed his mentor suddenly. “Why didn't you say that in the first place?!”

***

Bruce is uneasy as evening falls and he finishes preparing to return to the library. He looks around at the small crowd gathered in the cave with him. Dick is perched on Bruce's chair in front of the monitors with Damian curled up beside him. Tim and Jason are sitting on the steps together, having a signed conversation that Bruce hasn't been paying much attention to. Steph's taking covert pictures of all four of the boys with Cass's phone while Barbara watches on with increasing amusement. Alfred hovers near the top of the stairs. Cassandra, already prepared, stands beside the Batmobile.

Sighing Bruce gives his last minute orders. “I know you can all take care of things here, but still… stay out of trouble, stay inside, try not to kill each other, and… if anything does happen, contact me immediately, understood?”

“Of course.” Barbara responds, adding mischievously. “Try not to get shrunk.”

Dick laughs aloud. “Could you imagine? Mini-Bruce!”

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that.” Bruce grumbles.

Barbara becomes more serious. “I'll stay in the cave and watch you guys' backs.”

“Be careful, B.” Dick agrees.

Tim and Damian give him looks of concern, but Jason just reclines against the stairs, his expression pretty much unreadable. Giving a quiet nod of reassurance to his family, Bruce jumps into the car, closing the roof after Cassandra takes her place in the passenger seat. The car roars out onto the street and Bruce grips the steering wheel. It's a thirty minute trip from the cave to the library, it will be thirty minutes of silence. More than perfect for thinking about all the things that remain mysteries about this case.

Bruce is fairly certain that Quentin Vann is Long-legs. There isn't any other explanation that makes much sense. What the man is after is a little harder to grasp. His family has been dead for more than a century restoring them to life would be nearly impossible. Extending his own unnaturally long life is another possibility, how he's managed it thus far continues to elude Bruce. Long-legs doesn't seem the type who would ever knowingly cross Ra's al Ghul, but if Lazarus Pits aren't involved then methods of prolonging ones life are rather limited.

“Here.” Cassandra states, bringing him out of his thoughts and he slows the Batmobile to a stop.

Staring up at the old building as he opens the car's roof and gets out, Bruce taps his communicator. “Batman to Cave, has there been any activity around the library?”

“Negative.” Barbara responds almost immediately. “But there's always the possibility that he has another way in.”

He walks up the short staircase to the library's entrance. “I have no doubt he does…”

Turning slightly to get a better look at something that moved, he flicks a batarang at it, squashing the arachnid neatly. “He's watching us.”

Cassandra walks up to him and deposits several more of the now deceased creatures at his feet. “Everywhere.”

“Do I even wanna know how you guys know those aren't your average, everyday Daddy Long-legs?” Barbara questions. “Because I honestly cannot tell the difference.”

Wrinkling her nose, Cassandra explains. “Creepier.”

“They don't move like natural creatures.” Bruce agrees, stepping around the pile at his feet.

“I'll take your word for it.” Barbara lapses back into silence as the pair proceed into the old building. The door to the basement stands wide open, the wall dented where the doorknob had struck it. Obviously someone hadn't been impressed with the unauthorized intrusion into his little lab. He was going to be even less impressed with this second one.

They descend the stairs, both putting their re-breathers in place, just in case. Bruce wastes no time with the rooms he's already dealt with and makes his way directly to the door he hadn't attempted to open when last he'd been here. Last time he'd been too concerned with avoiding attracting unnecessary attention so he could find his sons. This time he was in a hurry to get back to them. This time he'd brought explosives. They're small, with just enough power to blow the door off it's hinges, but they do their job well. With a loud crack the door falls into the room beyond allowing the investigators access. Bruce steps inside and finds himself confronted with the answer to one of his questions. Six glass cases are arranged against the far wall, each occupied by a body. Some kind of strange machine is hooked up to the cases, pumping a green colored gas into them.

Cassandra approaches the nearest case and studies it as Bruce follows her. She looks up at him and shakes her head.

Barbara's voice crackles over the comm link. “If the feed isn't deceiving me those are the Vann children. They've been dead for nearly two hundred years.”

Examining the machine behind the cases, Bruce notes. “Their preservation is likely due to this machine and whatever substance it's filling these boxes with. It's not our concern right now though.”

“Over here.” Cassandra calls from across the room, bringing Bruce to her side. A long table, covered in research notes and chemistry equipment sits below a row of cabinets. To it's left is another machine hooked up to the wall, this one isn't functioning currently but a vial set into it catches Bruce's attention. It's labeled '#1489' and dated for the day his sons were captured. It remains half full, more than likely because the project had been interrupted by the boys' escape. Fortunate. Carefully he detaches the vial from the machine and pours a sample of the liquid within into an empty vial from his belt. The rest he dumps out on the floor. He peruses the papers on the desk quickly, folding the ones he deems necessary and stowing them away in his belt along with the sample. It strikes him then that they've met no resistance. “This was…”

“Too easy.” Cassandra's dark eyes narrow.

Bruce starts for the door. “Hurry! Back up to ground level. We--”

“Batman!” The alarm in Barbara's voice is evident. “Incoming!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I hit a snag with that first scene I kept trying but it always ended up seeming awkward... I only managed to get through it thanks to my brother reading through it for me and giving his opinion... here's hoping the next one will be easier.


	14. Hardship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. My only excuse is things have been crazy hectic in my life. At this point I think it's only fair that I link you guys to my [Tumblr](http://a-little-apart-from-ye.tumblr.com/) so you can get updates on the next chapter/kick my butt if I procrastinate too much.

“Large mass of creepy converging on your location at high speeds.” Barbara says quickly. “ETA is one minute, he's covered all the exits I can see and if I had to guess I'd say he's pissed.”

This is bad. The lab is a horrible place to fight, with so little space and so many chemicals one simple mistake could easily result in an explosion. The trouble is that if Long-legs' secret exit from the library is anywhere it's in this room, but there's no time to look for it.

Cassandra moves suddenly for the door and Bruce knows she's right. Escape would be the best option but as it seems impossible at the moment it's better not to be caught in this room should a fight break out.

Unfortunately, the arachnids are already pouring in around the door frame, no doubt masking the arrival of their master. The mass descends on them immediately, leaving only enough time for Bruce to pull his cape up to cover the lower half of his face. He quickly loses sight of Cassandra in the swarm and before he can make his way to where he last saw her he's nearly struck in the face by something metal. Just in time he manages to dodge and lashes out at the pair of long, thin legs that he manages to see through a gap in the swarm.

He misses his target but the onslaught of arachnids suddenly stops and many of them retreat back into Long-legs's sleeve. The man withdraws a bit, continuing to keep Black Bat at bay with his swarm. The retreat is a ploy, Bruce can see that immediately, if he attempts to make any move toward the strange man he'll find himself on the receiving end of a nasty strike from that metal cane.

Bruce holds his ground. “This has to stop, Quentin.”

“My my my, he is a clever one. He knows my name and I did not tell it to him. Did I, lovelies?” Quentin questions of his arachnids, then without waiting for a response from them, he brings his cane's tip down on the floor with a loud thump. “A stop, you say, Batman, Bruce Wayne, child of Gotham. Oh, no no no no no. This place, this thing will not end until I end and I… will not end.”

He lunges forward, taking another swipe at Bruce with his cane, just as Cassandra finally breaks free of the harvestmen. The girl makes an attack of her own whilst her father dodges the one aimed for his skull and nearly strikes Long-legs in the back. At the last second the spindly figure sidesteps her attack and swings his cane at her. She ducks under it and strikes Long-legs in the chin with the flat of her palm. He stumbles back looking as though he's about to fall over but he regains his balance with a shake of his head. Cassandra looks ready to launch another attack but Bruce steps between her and the man, motioning for her to stand down. “Tell me, Quentin, what do you mean, you 'will not end'?”

The thin man tilts his head to one side. “Hm, we are alike, Batman. Very alike indeed. We both are born of a simple wish and became far more than we should have been. You a protector of the innocents during the dark of Gotham's nights and I… quite simply became more.”

“I don't see how that makes us alike.” Bruce growls. “What you've done to create that chemical that turned my sons into children is unforgivable.”

Long-legs seems unaffected. “Like you, I truly believe that nothing is more important than family.”

“Do you think your family will appreciate what you've done to bring them back?” Bruce takes a step forward.

The thin man doesn't even ponder the question. “Not a bit. They will hate me, but I have accepted that. It is payment for what I must do to be with them once more.”

“You will never be with them again, Vann.” There's no point in even giving that idea the benefit of the doubt. “Even a Lazarus Pit could not restore them to life now. There is no power that can resurrect a person dead for more than a century. Even if you can turn back the clock for their bodies, it will never bring back… who they were. You're an intelligent man, Quentin, you should know this. Let them go.”

The masked head tilts a bit and the arachnids surrounding Long-legs stir in an unnerving manner. “Would you?”

There's no answer to that question. Bruce cannot honestly say that he would if he were in Quentin's place. After all he never really let go of Jason when he was dead. The idea of letting any one of them slip away from him is more painful than anything else he can imagine.

Seeming to take his silence as an answer, Long-legs strikes out with his cane again, narrowly missing as Bruce leans out of range. The momentum of the attack spins Quentin around far enough to allow him another shot, this time a quick jab that Bruce is forced to duck under. He launches a nerve strike at the arm holding the cane, but the swarm descends on him at that moment forcing him to abort the attack and roll away from his opponent.

Cassandra tries to attack their adversary's legs, but she's thrown back by the rest of the swarm. Bruce, immediately, rushes to his daughter's side. She's already back on her feet by the time he gets there. Honestly he's not sure why he worried. Lightly, he pushes Cassandra in the direction of the door, informing her that escape is their top priority. He's not certain that it's possible to defeat Long-legs in a fight at all, the man is little more than a spirit after all, and it's better not to risk losing the sample in a scuffle.

After receiving a small acknowledgment of his order, Bruce makes a quick feint in the opposite direction and starts running for the exit with his daughter close behind. Unfortunately Long-leg's isn't fooled and the swarm immediately cuts off their retreat slamming into the table on the far side of the room in the process. A few of the chemicals ignite automatically on contact with each other starting a small fire which starts growing at an alarming rate. This is bad.

Cassandra grabs Bruce's wrist and starts running to the other side of the room. In the next second she's pulling him along with her as she crashes through a rickety, wooden door that had been disguised as part of the rock wall. Bruce hesitates as they enter the tunnel beyond, realizing that their retreat had been unhindered. He turns back and finds that the fire has spread across the wooden floor. It's only a matter of time before something explodes and brings the building down. With the fire bearing down on him, Long-leg's stands stock still, the swarm of arachnids nowhere to be seen. Bruce yells to him. “Quentin!”

The man looks at him slowly, then turns back to the fire that separates him from the cases lined up against the wall.

“They're already dead, Quentin, get out of there! Don't--” Bruce tries to reason with him but the strange man disappears into the wall of flames towards his long dead family. Taking a step to follow him, to drag him out if necessary, Bruce is stopped by his daughter's hand on his arm.

She stares up at him with quiet calm, only the tightness of her grip betraying the urgency she must feel. Her voice is slightly hoarse as she states, “You can't.”

Bruce closes his eyes. She's right. He can't follow Long-legs into that inferno. He has his own children to protect, to save. So he lets her pull him away, up the sloping tunnel, towards the exit as fast as they can go. The moment they're free of the tunnel, coming out from a large drain near the river, they hear the blast. Immediately Bruce grabs Cassandra and hauls her to the left of the exit, wrapping his cape around both of them.

A burst of flames and debris shoots out from the tunnel at incredible speeds. Pieces of burning wood and red hot rocks land, hissing, in the river sending wisps of steam into the air. When the commotion settles Bruce looks up towards the library and the pillar of smoke that rises into the night sky. If he had hesitated even a second long, he has no doubt that both he and his daughter would have been caught in that blast. He hugs Cassandra to his chest and she seems to understand, wrapping her own arms around him in response.

“Batman!” Barbara calls frantically over the comm. “Please respond! Are you alright? I just watched the library sink into the ground!”

Bruce answers her, calmly, while still holding Cassandra close to him with one arm. “We're fine, Oracle… we're both fine.”

“Thank God.” There's an echo of Barbara's sigh of relief that tells Bruce that she has company in the cave.

“Boys, I'll have an antidote for your condition completed sometime tomorrow.” Bruce informs them, then orders sternly, “Go get some sleep.”

“It's only ten, old man!” Jason's voice protests, then after a moment of silence he laughs. “Yeah! You tell him, baby bird. Kiddo thinks we should be allowed to stay up late as celebration.”

Dick chimes in, “Yes! And we should get to watch a movie! Tim thinks that too!”

“Do no' pu' wowds in his mouf, Dwayson.” Damian scolds. “Dwake sai' he vinks--”

There's a loud clatter and Barbara yells, “Jason, Dick! No, roughhousing near the computer!… Don't you flip me off Jason Peter Todd, I mean it! Yeah, they're not listening.”

Damian speaks up again, “Dwake, vinks we shou' be allow' to stay up un'il you we'u'n, Faver.”

“That's reasonable. We'll discuss the possibility of a movie when I get back.” Bruce sighs and earns a sympathetic hug from Cassandra.

***

“So…” Jason manages to escape Dick's clingy octopus hold, grabs the popcorn he convinced Alfred to bring them a while ago, and hops into Bruce's chair. “Anybody wanna start a horror movie before he gets back?”

Demon brat scrunches up his face in the most adorable way and questions, “I see no poin' in such a'tion.”

“Eh.” Jason shrugs and bounces a popcorn kernel off Tim's head, eliciting exactly zero response as the boy continues watching the screens over Babs's shoulder. “Being a preteen is making me wanna rebel.”

“You always wanna rebel, Jaybird.” Dick snorts, unhelpfully, as he leans against the desk nearby.

Shooting him a grin, Jason responds, “What can I say? There's just so much to rebel against! Oi, baby bird, what about you?”

The kid finally looks over at him and blinks two or three times before tilting his head to one side. “Hm?”

“Horror movie.” Jason says, deliberately, before flicking another kernel at the kid. “Do you wanna watch one while Babs is the only adult in the vicinity and you know she don't give a shit.”

Babs laughs a bit. “I might even encourage it.”

“Um…” Tim doesn't even flinch when another piece of popcorn hits him right between the eyes and falls into the waiting jaws of Tiny. He just shrugs and signs, 'If you want to.'

“Got any better ideas for passing the half an hour before B gets back? Because I sure don't.” Jason grumbles.

Dick looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Hm, well, I vote we go raid Steph's stash of nail polish and have her and Babs paint our nails.”

“Hell yeah!” Jason chucks a handful of popcorn at his older brother. “That sounds awesome!”

Babs snorts. “What color do you want?”

“Red, obviously.” Jason waves a hand, dramatically. “We'll do pink for Timbit, blue for Dickiebird, and yellow for the baby bat.”

Tim frowns. 'I don't think Steph has anything but eggplant.'

“We awe no' doin' vat!” The littlest terror states, firmly, looking horrified at the very idea of it.

Babs laughs. “Obviously not. Steph is off limits until she's done studying and I didn't bring my nail polish with me.”

Damian mumbles something in Arabic, but he's too far away for Jason to hear him properly. Tim however is just close enough and apparently it's amusing because he giggles. Noticing that whatever he said was well received Damian moves closer to Tim and whispers something else that makes the kid almost double over laughing. Dick gives them a concerned look, while Jason just demands, “What's so damn funny?”

'He said--' Tim begins to sign, but Damian elbows him roughly in the leg.

The little gremlin gives Jason a gap-toothed grin. “I's none of you' business, Todd.”

“Oh hell.” Dick looks like he's just witnessed something horrific as he groans. “The world has officially gone topsy-turvy. Timmy and Dami are conspiring! Conspiring, Jason! We should conspire to even the odds!”

Jason hardly has time to save his bowl of popcorn before Dick falls dramatically across his lap. “What? Fuck no. Get off!”

“If you don't conspire with me, I'll tickle you.” Dick threatens, moving to poke Jason in the side.

Swatting the hand away, Jason snorts. “Fuck that particular threat, you're way more ticklish than I am.”

“Are you proposing a tickle war?” Dick states, seriously. “Because I will win.”

Jason grins as Dick jumps when Tim runs one finger down the bottom of the acrobat's foot. “Wanna bet?”

“All my little brothers are conspiring against me!” Dick flops over, dramatically, letting his limbs dangle off the chair and whining aloud. “Say it isn't so! Little D, tell me at least you're on my side!”

Jason shoves his older brother roughly, but he's unfortunately too heavy to push off as dead weight. “Sorry, Goldie, we've formed the very exclusive, 'Little Brothers Against Dick Grayson's Whiny Ass' club. Now get your whiny ass off me!”

Dick's entire expression changes as Jason speaks. His eyes get wide and he lifts his head to stare in shock. Jason's not sure what he did to deserve that look until the older boy speaks, “'Little brother'?”

“Oh… Oh fuck!” Jason can't escape the acrobat fast enough and finds himself engulfed in a crushing hug. “Dick! It's not--! It ain't that big a deal, bastard, let the hell go!”

“I will not let the hell go.” Dick mumbles into Jason's shoulder, sounding pathetically choked up. “The hell is gonna stay right here and take his medicine like a good, little brother.”

Jason feels Dick's hold on him tighten and groans. This isn't as big a deal as the sappy idiot is making out to be, honestly. “You're embarrassing yourself, Dickie.”

“Don't care.” The acrobat murmurs and Jason looks up at the rest of the small group for help.

Unfortunately they seem just as emotional about the stupid phrase as Dick is. “Oh for fuck's sake, you're all a bunch of sappy morons! You know that?”

“Sure, Jay.” Babs gives a small laugh as she wipes away the wetness at the corner of one eye. “Just… just let us have this, okay?”

Jason grumbles, but he has to admit, he kinda enjoys being hugged so tight it feels like his head's gonna explode. Maybe some good came out of this fiasco after all.

Then the Batmobile roars it's way into the cave, effectively ending the moment. Jason pushes Dick away from him without any further trouble. At least that much is understood between them. Allowing his brother to cuddle him in the presence of their siblings is one thing. Giving Bruce any ideas was another entirely.

Batman jumps out of the car followed swiftly by Cass. The girl dashes up the steps and sweeps her two youngest brothers up into a hug, whispering an assurance to them as they cling to her costume, “Safe. I am safe.”

Damian hugs her neck tightly and Tim clings to her side. Dick gives Jason a small smile before making his way over to their siblings and joining in the group hug. Bruce is there beside the group in the next minute, enveloping them all in a hug with one arm, holding them close to him, while leaving the option open for Jason to join them. Like Jason doesn't know exactly what the old man's trying to do.

Climbing down out of the chair, he turns his back on the scene. “Great. I'm heading upstairs. Give me a holler when you've got the antidote fixed up.”

“Jay…” He ignores Bruce's call and heads for the stairs with Tiny close behind him.

Dick makes a humming sound, before stating loudly, “Great idea, Jaybird! Come on, Timmy, Dami! We'll all go watch a movie on the couch and stay out of Bruce's way so he can work faster.”

In the next moment Jason feels a pair of tiny, toddler arms latch around his leg and a small, hesitant hand grab his wrist. He looks down first at the toddler who scowls back at him with an adorable rendition of his usual pout, then at the nine year old who ducks his face into Jason's side to hide from any potential wrath. Jason sighs and braces himself. Sure enough, he's wrapped in a patented Dick Grayson octopus hug from behind after a second. “I ain't carrying you, Dickface. Feet on the ground or I fall over on you.”

Dick laughs but obliges and Jason casually pulls his two youngest brothers close to him. He lets Dick hold him by the shoulders and even gives Cass a small smile when she loops her arm around him as well. Yeah, this really isn't so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!


	15. What We Give And Receive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took pretty much forever, but here it is... the last chapter of A Cradle Song. Enjoy!

Bruce works late into the night, long after Barbara and Stephanie have gone back to their respective homes, trying to figure out an antidote to this gas. He's on his sixth cup of coffee and fairly certain that even Tim would raise an eyebrow at his caffeine intake this night when Alfred walks down into the cave. “Master Bruce…”

“Hm?” Bruce doesn't take his eyes off computer screen displaying the progress of the scan he just started.

Alfred steps up beside him. “It is after six o'clock in the morning, sir. Far be it from me to suggest that perhaps you need sleep, but I believe that you may be more productive in your quest were you not… jittery from far too much coffee and yet still falling asleep at your desk.”

Finally, the caped crusader turns his gaze to the butler and knows immediately that this is a fight he will lose. “I suppose so… I'm just concerned that the longer we allow this to go on, the less reversible it will become…”

“Understandable, sir.” Alfred smiles, slightly. “But as Master Richard has already informed you, there are options in that case. It is better that you get your rest so that you may properly tackle this conundrum when you awaken.”

Standing up and pressing a few buttons on the keyboard nearby, Bruce nods. “You're right… both you and Dick. The computer has to identify a few more components before I can truly get to work anyway. That will take a few hours. I'll rest until then.”

“Very good, then before you head to bed, you can help me with a small task.” Of course there's an ulterior motive.

Bruce almost laughs. “What sort of task, Alfred?”

With a fond smile, Alfred responds, “I'm afraid that the young sirs and Miss Cassandra neglected to return to their beds after their movie… they remain on the sofa and I fear I require assistance in carrying them to a proper sleeping area. They seem quite determined not to be separated, even in slumber.”

“Hm… that is a problem.” Bruce chuckles a bit. “But I think I know just the place for those young troublemakers. Come on, Alfred.”

He ascends the stairs then follows Alfred to the sitting room where his children are curled up on the couch together. Jason is in the middle with Tim and Damian laying against his sides, while Dick and Cassandra lean on his shoulders. Damian looks like an enormous pillbug snuggled in a tight ball between Dick and Jason, each of his two eldest brothers has an arm wrapped around him. Tim is a sprawled mess, his head rested on Jason's chest, one arm trapped between him and his brother, the other stretched up to cling to Cassandra's shoulder in a pose that looks highly uncomfortable. Dick is sound asleep like Bruce hasn't seen him since he was a child, his head leaned back as far as it'll go with Jason's shoulder and the couch cushion in the way, his mouth open just a bit, his legs pulled up onto the couch and his entire torso twisted so that he's touching every one of his siblings. Cassandra is leaned lightly against Jason's shoulder, one arm slipped under Tim's torso, the other rested limply against her side. Jason's head is rested against Dick's and his arms firmly hold his younger brother's close to him. All this while the theme song for the Thing plays on the television.

Bruce feels like laughing but he contains it as he crosses the space between him and his children. He stands, quietly in front of the couch and waits. It's a good tactic. They all know his presence and they're all trained to be alert to changes in the room, so it's a gentle method of waking them without causing much commotion.

Jason wakes first, mid-snore of course, and blinks owlishly at Bruce. “Hrm? Oh, s'you… Didya finish the antidote?”

“Not yet.” Bruce responds, softly. “Alfred wanted me to help him relocate all of you,”

The preteen huffs in sleepy amusement. “Good luck.”

“If you'll get Damian, I'll wake Dick and Cass and you can all move to the master bedroom.” Bruce explains, gently. “It'll be more comfortable there.”

Jason yawns and slowly disentangles himself from Tim and Dick while also moving to lift Damian. “Yeah… that… that sounds good.”

Cass wakes the moment Jason moves and seems completely at peace as she sits up, stretching. Dick takes a little more work, but a few gentle shakes soon bring him around. “Ugh… I have a crick in my neck.”

“I'd imagine so.” Bruce says with a quiet laugh. “Come on, chum, follow Jay and Alfred.”

The young acrobat drags himself off the couch laboriously then suddenly stops and looks back at his former spot, mumbling, “What about Timmy?”

“I've got him.” Bruce responds, lifting the boy into his arms. “Go on.”

Dick nod. “M'kay.”

Bruce and Alfred herd the children up the stairs to the room that Bruce usually claims as his own. Today though he carefully tucks his children into the massive canopy bed. Once they're settled, he gently strokes Dick's hair and squeezes Cassandra's shoulder before heading back towards the door.

“B.” At Jason's almost hesitant call, Bruce stops in his tracks and turns back to see teal colored eyes staring back at him from the dark of the room. “Goodnight… ya know, from these losers, since they're too zoned to say it for themselves.”

Smiling softly, Bruce nods. “Of course… goodnight to all of you as well.”

***

“In other news the abandoned Old Gotham Library, local historic landmark, was demolished last night in a mysterious explosion.” The news anchor reports in that usual, vaguely annoying tone of voice. “The police have declined to comment on the nature of the incident though they have informed us that there were no casualties…”

Dick yawns as he sits up and looks around. It's well after dawn, but Damian and Tim are still fast asleep on the bed beside him. Cass is seated on the farthest corner from Dick and watching the news on the TV at the foot of the bed with mild amusement and concern. Jason however is nowhere in sight. He must have left quite recently as the space between Dick and his youngest brothers is still warm. Dick stretches and nods in greeting to Cass when she glances over at him. She returns the gesture then simply says, “Kitchen.”

Confused, Dick questions, “What?”

“Where Jason went.” She shrugs. “You were curious.”

Trust Cass to know what someone wanted to ask before they even knew they wanted to ask it. “Thanks… I think I'll go check up on him.”

“Mm… I'll stay and keep an eye on them.” She gestures to the boys who are still sleeping. “Keep them out of trouble.”

Dick grins in response. “I don't envy you. Thanks, lil sis… or is it 'big sis'?”

“You're welcome little big brother.” She says with an amused smile.

Carefully, so as not to wake his slumbering brothers, Dick gets up, stepping over Titus and heading for the kitchen. About halfway there he's blessed with the smell of sausage and eggs cooking. He'd nearly forgotten that Jason is second only to Alfred in his ability to cook. Even as a kid it was one of the things he excelled at. As Dick gets closer he can hear the preteen humming some song to himself only to be interrupted by a plaintive whine. “What? No. Heck no. You're already too fat as it is.”

Another piercing whine.

“I don't fucking care if you're starvin'. I gave you a whole damn dish of Titus's fancy-ass dog food and you ignored it, so it's you're own fault.” Jason retorts.

The whine becomes more insistent.

“Fuck it… fine.” Jason sighs and Dick reaches the doorway just in time to see him drop a sausage with feigned reluctance. The little faker just snorts as he watches the dog practically swallow the piece of meat whole. “Spoiled fat ass.”

“Aw, Tiny's not fat!” Dick playfully protests on the dog's behalf, crossing the distance between them to crouch down and hug the dog's neck. “She's just fluffy, aren't ya, Tiny?”

A disgusting mix of sausage and dog breath assaults Dick's nose as the loveable mutt plants a slobbery kiss on his cheek. Dick can't stop himself from making a face at the smell and earns a laugh from Jason. “Ha! See what you get for taking her side, Dickie? Let that be a lesson to you.”

“I only learned that taking Tiny's side gets me love, so I guess the lesson is 'always take Tiny's side'.” Dick sticks his tongue out at his little brother and scratching the dog's ears. “Good morning, by the way. Why're you cooking and where's Alfred?”

Jason just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, mornin', Dickface. Alfie's helping B work on the antidote down in the cave. I figured I'd make myself useful.”

“Hm, well,--” Dick begins, standing up and wiping the dog slobber off his cheek with his sleeve. “--anything I can do to help?”

A look of horror spreads across Jason's face. “No way in hell! 'Specially not if you still cook like you did when I was a kid.”

Dick scoffs. “I'm a twenty-two year old bachelor, Jay, I promise, I literally can't set cereal on fire… anymore.”

“Cereal? Dude, you could set a dish of ice water on fire!” Jason responds, incredulously. “I seriously doubt you've improved all that much in the last… hell I don't even know.”

Leaning against the counter, Dick thinks back. “Five years and two months. That was the last time I cooked at the manor before… well, while you were still… staying at the manor.”

“Before I died you mean.” Jason huffs, casually. “Yeah, seems about right. This is missing somethin'… Hey, you wanna be useful? Grab the flour and sugar from that shelf. I'm too damn short like this. Can't wait to be the tallest again.”

“By like two inches.” Dick protests. “That doesn't give you a whole lot on me!”

Jason smirks. “Still the tallest. Deal with it, short stack.”

Dick flips him off but still climbs up to get the requested ingredients. “Fuck you. Dami's gonna outgrow you anyhow.”

“All the more reason to enjoy it while it lasts.” Jason says taking the sugar when Dick hands it to him. “I don't wanna end up bitter like you when my little brother gets taller than me.”

Dick contemplates dumping the flour on Jason's head as revenge for that comment, but decides that it's not worth getting in trouble with Alfred over. Besides he's got a hunch what Jason's gonna make with it and it actually sounds delicious. Best not to ruin the chances of a good breakfast over a petty squabble. Jason's already wandered out of range in his quest for the last of his ingredients anyway. So Dick just sets the flour next to the sugar and sits down on the counter, swinging his legs lazily. “Hm, well,… at least I've gotten to enjoy a few days as the tallest brother anyhow. This whole mess has turned out… surprisingly pleasant.”

“If you say so.” Jason snorts. “I think it's been weird, uncomfortable, and more than a little demeaning… maybe a bit enlightening, but that ain't the point.”

Dick shrugs. “It's been my experience that all forms of enlightenment come with a massive dose of discomfort.”

“True that.” Jason allows with a slight smirk. “…At least I didn't have to suffer the embarrassment alone, though.”

Humming slightly Dick opens his mouth to speak. “You--

Jason's eyes go wide as he obviously realizes his mistake and he tries to cut in before it can go any further. “Dick, I swear to fuck if you feed me some damned sappy line I will--”

“--'re never alone with family, Jay.” Dick sings over his brother's protests, pleased with himself.

Burying his face in his flour covered hands, Jason lets out a loud groan. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

***

Damian has come to an annoying conclusion about Drake. In fact he has come to several as of late, the most disturbing of which is that the cretin can actually be tolerable. At least when he is forced to communicate with those younger than him or not at all. However Damian's latest conclusion is far less disconcerting and far more irritating. This being that, apparently the currently eight year old is incredibly clingy and manages somehow to be an absolute furnace, making it extremely difficult to sleep next to him, even for someone like Damian who prefers warmth. The younger boy awoke only moments ago to find himself wrapped in a passable imitation of one of Grayson's crushing hugs, only infinitely warmer. He has since tried three separate methods of extricating himself without waking the blissfully slumbering Drake. It is time to resort to more drastic measures. “Dwake! Ge'off!”

Given that Damian yelled as loud as he could manage, it is not particularly surprising that Drake sits up so quickly that he does not yet appear to be quite awake when he reaches an upright position. “What? What's wrong? What'd I do?”

Damian slowly rights himself and scowls at his older 'brother'. “You wewe sleepin' on me.”

“Sowy… I mean 'Sorry'.” Drake corrects himself before Damian can become insulted.

With a huff, Damian just crosses his arms, which contrary to what appears to be popular belief, he does know to be adorable much to his chagrin. “Ma'ers no'.”

“Where's Dick?” The volume of Drake's voice drops significantly, indicating that they are likely not as alone in the room as Damian first thought.

Sure enough, Cain answers Drake's question from just behind Damian. “He went to help Jason in the kitchen.”

Damian turns a glare on her. “You wewe wight vere ve whole time and did noving to assiss' me?”

“Promised I'd watch you.” She responds with a mischievous grin. “Needed time to take more pictures.”

Drake grumbles with as much irritation as he can likely muster. “You've been spending too much time with Steph.”

“Adweed.” Damian nods and narrows his eyes at Cain. “We shou' dis'uss ways of limi'in' hew esposure.”

Cain chuckles and ruffles Damian's hair, ignoring his loud protests. “Steph is fine.”

Damian growls and looks over to Drake for support only to find the boy staring at the opposite wall, like it has become immensely fascinating. “Wha'?”

“I was just… thinking…” Drake grimaces then curls in on himself and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

Cain immediately moves from her position at the edge of the bed to sit closer to Drake. “We want to hear what you have to say.”

Drake's expression shifts slightly in discomfort. “What… I mean,… everything's different… no matter what, when we go back to our proper ages… things will change… and I'm just… not sure what to think of that…”

Damian frowns. “Dwake--”

“Hey, kiddos!” Grayson bursts into the room and throws himself onto the bed, grinning up them oblivious of the discussion he just interrupted. “Morning!”

After exchanging a look of exasperated amusement Cain and Drake lapse into fits of giggling. Damian just rolls his eyes. “Dood mownin', Dwayson.”

With a sharp bark of laughter that brings Titus up onto the bed, Grayson rolls over on his back. The acrobat wrestles with the giant dog for a moment before controlling himself long enough to explain, “Jason made breakfast, I came up to get you guys because he said if you don't 'get your asses down those stairs right this instant' he's gonna feed everything to Tiny.”

Everyone gets up and Damian somehow finds himself swept up into Cain's arms. Well, at least he didn't have to make the jump from the bed to the floor and this is a faster mode of transportation. He can tolerate the embarrassment without complaint this once. Only for the sake of breakfast.

***

Perhaps not unpredictably, breakfast becomes a bit of an adventure with the lack of authority figures to mediate. The kitchen is already a hopeless mess of flour and other breakfast ingredients, a fact which Jason blames on Dick's 'height complex'. The eldest brother proceeds to deny this accusation and plop a bit of maple syrup on the end of Jason's nose while teasingly calling him short, resulting in a five minute food fight. By the time they sit down to actually eat, they all look like they could use a shower or six.

Tim honestly isn't impressed with the flour in his hair, but the sound of his elder brothers laughing when Damian complains about a similar offense makes him smile. It's good to see them happy, even Damian seems more content now. For that at least Tim is happy, it almost makes dealing with the crushing anxiety that keeps him from speaking worth it. He kind of wonders if he's the only one who can't wait to get back to his original age and stop being stuck in the past. Probably not, but there are certainly moment when he almost thinks that his brothers would be happier staying children for a while longer.

He sighs, tearing his attention away from his comically arguing brothers, and starts nibbling at his breakfast. Jason's cooking never disappoints of course, but Tim can't summon much of an appetite, still caught up in his thoughts. Cass slips into the seat next to him and Tim looks over, receiving a warm smile from his sister. She pats his arm, gently. “It will be okay.”

As usual she read his mind, well, his body language anyway. Sometimes it's nice to have a sibling who understands you without words. He lets some of the tension slip away at her reassurance and nods before turning back to his food. Then Jason flops into the chair on Tim's other side, throwing an arm around Tim's shoulders and ruffling the boy's hair. “Back me up here, Timbo, Dickie totally started that food fight, right?”

“Um… I…” Tim starts nervously. Technically Jason's right but Tim doesn't want to upset Dick by siding against him.

Damian, standing on his chair so that he can properly reach his plate, turns a glare on Jason. “S'op bein' so pe'y, Todd! Dwaggin overs in'o you' figh' will no make you any less w'ong!”

“I'm just saying.” Jason gestures at the mess they created. “Somebody's gotta take the fall for this with Alfie and I refuse to get the disappointed look.”

Dick snorts. “Please, you're like the… second to last person at this table that Alfred would ever stay mad at for more than a minute! He's not gonna make you scrub the floors!”

“Second to last?” Jason questions, looking around at each of them.

Tim gestures to his other side. “Cass.”

“Figures.” The older boy nods approvingly.

The girl in question looks up from the pancake she's just finished smothering in maple syrup and says, “You can blame me. I won't mind.”

“That's very nice of you, Cassie.” Dick responds, smiling softly at his little sister. “But there's no way in hell that Alfred would believe you started this, even if you actually had. However, you have just given a wonderful example of 'taking one for the team'. A lesson which some others among us could stand to learn… Jay.”

Jason tosses a bit of flour at Dick. “No, I'm not gonna--”

“What the hell happened in here?” Bruce is standing in the doorway, taking in the sight of the breakfast apocalypse with a look of pure horror.

Without even blinking, Tim points at Dick when Jason and Cass chime, “Dick started it!”

“Traitors!” Dick hisses.

Bruce just pinches the bridge of his nose. “I… nevermind… I came up here to tell you all that I finished the antidote… you can return to your proper ages whenever you see fit.”

“Oh thank fuck!” Jason barks in relief, then grins at Tim. “I finally get to tower over Dickie again!”

Dick squawks in protest. “Two inches is not towering!”

“Before you rush off to become adults again, young sirs…” A stern British voice begins from behind Bruce and the large man steps aside to let Alfred into the room. “Perhaps you would all like to assist me in cleaning up this mess. Then you all will, of course, be showering.” 

No one argues.

***

Bruce watches silently as Jason, the last of his sons to take the antidote steps out of the med-room to join his brothers, dressed in clothes that Alfred undoubtedly picked up from the young man's apartment, though Bruce isn't sure when. The teen adjusts his shirt and grumbles loudly, “That was the weirdest shit I have ever gone through in my entire life and I died that one time.”

“We know, Jay.” Tim responds, dryly, having found his voice again now that he's returned to his proper age. The younger boy pauses then and frowns at Jason, contemplatively. “Hey,… you know I think you lost a couple inches.”

Jason freezes. “What!?”

Tim starts laughing and Jason bats the back of his head. “Never reveal insecurities, Jay! It's brotherhood one o one, Jay! Did you honestly think one of us wasn't gonna do that?”

Ruffling the boy's hair, Jason grumbles. “I keep forgetting how much of a little shit you are when you're all grown up.”

Tiny breaks free of Damian's loose hold on her and practically tackles her owner, trying to lick his face. Dick laughs when Jason nearly falls over. “Looks like Tiny's happy to have you back to your usual self.”

Jason huffs into his dog's fur as he hugs her tightly. “Yeah well… I guess everything's back to normal.”

They all look to Bruce, silently asking for confirmation. “The antidote appears to have performed as expected. How do you all feel?”

“A little disorientated, but that is likely just a side effect of the incredibly odd experience of aging eight years in the span of a few moments. Otherwise I seem unaffected.” Damian responds and the others nod in agreement.

“Good. I'd like it if all of you stayed in the manor for a few more days to ensure that none of you react negatively to the antidote.” He levels a firm look at Tim because he knows the boy often has strange reactions to various drugs and is even more prone to disappearing to deal with such things on his own. The boy very deliberately doesn't return Bruce's gaze, choosing to keep his eyes on the wall to his right.

Dick turns to Jason. “Well?”

Jason grimaces. “Er… I should… get back to my apartment, the cats have probably run out of food by now and I got shit that'll need taking care of… Before any of you get all guilt-trippy, I promise I'll call in and I'll even let O reactivate her surveillance. Deal?”

Bruce would really rather have the boy here where he can keep an actual eye on him, but he's also aware that he shouldn't push his luck with the tentative alliance Jason has allowed. “Agreed… let Alfred drive you over.”

“Sure.” Jason says with a shrug as he wraps an arm around Tim's shoulders and squeezes. “You better behave yourself, kiddo. I'm gonna drop by in a few days and if you're fuck deep in trouble with creepy immortal things I ain't gonna save your ass.”

Tim hugs him back. “Jerk.”

Jason snorts as Tim lets him go, then walks towards the stairs where Alfred's waiting, ruffling Damian's hair when he pass the boy and stunningly getting away with it. He pauses in front of Dick, turns, and starts to speak, but Dick gestures for him to stop. “Don't wreck your cool guy image on my account. Take care, Jay.”

“See you for patrol in a few days.” Jason says, smacking Dick's shoulder. “Let's try not getting kidnapped this time.”

“No promises.” Dick says with a grin.

Nodding a farewell to Cassandra, Jason heads up the stairs and leaves, followed by Alfred. The cave is quiet for a moment then Dick claps his hands together. “Well then! I'm gonna go upstairs and watch a movie. You guys coming?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tim says, with fond exasperation, and begins to follow his eldest brother towards the stairs.

Damian reaches out, abruptly, and catches the edge of Tim's sleeve, startling the older boy into stopping. For a moment there's silence, then the smaller boy murmurs, almost too quietly for Bruce to hear, “It is for the better.”

The phrase makes no sense to Bruce, but Tim seems to understand, responding to the statement with a nod before continuing towards the stairs with Damian and Cassandra following close behind.

Dick pauses at the top of the stairs to look down at Bruce. “You coming, B?”

“I'll be there in a moment.” Bruce answers, a slight smile on his face as he watches his children proceed through the open doorway. He leans back in his chair and looks around the empty cave. So much has changed since the lonely days long ago when he first began this crusade. He has a family now and they're safe. There's nothing else that he needs.

Quietly he gets up and heads up to the manor to spend some time with his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this fic is really kind of a fascinating thing. I began writing it only a month after becoming interested in the Bat Family, back when most of my knowledge came from Young Justice (the cartoon), Batman: the animated series, Under the Red Hood (the movie), a few chapters of New 52's Teen Titans, and Red Hood and the Outlaws. It's been a bumpy road from start to finish, but here I am.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


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